Twelve Again
by Dhrelva
Summary: After Professor Snape fails to return from a Death Eater meeting, Hagrid finds a young dark-haired boy who believes the year is still 1968. The victim of an experimental time-reversal potion, young Severus tries to adapt to a changed world.
1. Twelve Again

** Twelve Again **

  
  
Summary: Severus Snape returns from a DE meeting, but something is seriously wrong. He's a kid again. Takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places are not mine.   
  
  
Hagrid found him lying just outside the front gates of Hogwarts. He sprawled on the ground, unconscious, face, hair, and robes soiled with blood, mud, and possibly worse. Fang whimpered behind the half-giant not wanting to approach the small form, no doubt smelling the evil that led to the body's condition. Not that the body itself was pleasantly fragrant itself. Even Hagrid could smell the blood and a rotten reek that made him think of death. 

He opened the gates cautiously, looking around for whatever might have done this to the child. For child it was, he saw as he knelt down beside the form. Gently, he brushed dark hair away from the young face. Vaguely familiar features were twisted in pain, even in unconsciousness. Hagrid couldn't name the child, but he guessed the boy was a first year. 

Carefully, he lifted the child, who softly cried out at the disturbance but did not awaken. When he reached the Hospital Wing, Poppy Pomphrey bustled collecting different potions about as the huge man set the boy on one of the beds. She muttered under her breath as she began her examination, interrupted by occassional exclaimations of dismay and outrage at whomever was responsible. 

Hargid backed out of the infirmary, in part to avoid being thrown out, but mostly to go report what he had found to Dumbledore. It took only minutes to find and explain the situation to the Headmaster, and within a quarter of an hour, both were back in the Hospital Wing. 

Poppy had cleaned the boy up some, and he laid on his back looking far more comfortable than he had lying in the mud outside. He turned his head in his sleep, turning his face toward his two visitors. Beside him, he felt the Headmaster stiffen. "Great Merlin," the older wizard whispered in horror. He approached and lowered himself into a chair as though in a daze. 

Hagrid looked at the boy again, confused. Cleaned up and laid out on a bed, he thought the child looked almost peaceful. No doubt several painkilling and healing potions had already begun work on him. He couldn't see what had so upset the Headmaster. 

Poppy performed another scanning spell, and made a sound of indignation, as if the discovery of another injury was a personal insult. She rolled and pushed back one of the boy's overly large sleeves. In fact all his robes appeared much too big for him. Harry Potter would fit into Hargid's own clothes with about equal snugness. 

The mediwitch used a sponge to clean away the blood on his left forearm, then cried out in alarm as she looked at the dark wound, retreating physically several steps. Her eyes were wide and her hand covered her mouth. "My God." 

Morbidly curious, Hagrid stepped nearer, and drew in a sharp breath as he got his own look at the child's small thin arm. The Dark Mark was freshly emblazoned on the pale skin, and he thought he detected a whiff of burnt flesh. Stunned, he more felt than heard Dumbledore rise and come even with him. "Oh, Severus," the Headmaster whispered. 

Both Hagrid and Poppy looked at the old wizard in surprise. Then their eyes drifted back to the small figure on the bed. Hagrid studied the boy's face intently. Limp black hair, a smaller (relatively) but still crooked nose, pale skin, even the Dark Mark. Robes sized more for a man near six feet than a child of eleven years. All these attributes spoke toward Dumbledore's identification, yet the youthful features and skinny four foot frame denied the possibility. "Can't be," Poppy whispered, evidently coming to the same conclusion. 

Dumbledore apparently didn't hear her. He approached the bed and gently brushed a thumb along the boy's cheekbone. The child mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over, pulling away from the touch. His face pressed into his pillow, then he slowly propped himself up on one elbow. He blinked against the bright whiteness of the hospital wing, then squinted up at Dumbledore. "Headmaster?" he asked sleepily. 

Dumbledore smiled down at him sadly. "Hello, Severus. How are you feeling, child?" 

The boy collapsed back down into the pillow, belly down and face first. His answer emerged muffled, "Tired." He rolled over again, this time to face the Headmaster. Propping himself up again, he noticed Hagrid. He turned his head around the room to see who and what else he might have overlooked. "Hospital Wing again," he lamented, flopping back down onto his back. 

Dumbledore's mouth twitched, evidenced by a slight movement of his beard. "Yes, child." 

"Did Potter's potion get on me then?" He sat up yet again and once more took a survey of the room. "I know it got on him, but he's not here." He made a gesture to the other empty beds with his left arm, and froze, staring at the Mark. "Headmaster? What is that?" he asked shakily, still staring at his outstretched arm. 

"Severus, I'm going to ask you a question, and it might sound odd, but I want you to answer it, alright?" 

The boy's wide-eyed black gaze never left the Mark. "Ok." 

"How old are you?" 

"Twelve." Dumbledore briefly closed his eyes as if in pain, but the child was too fascinated with the Mark to notice. He brought it in closer to get a good look at it, the looked at it from several different angles. "It's kinda cool-looking, isn't? Spooky, too." He looked up at the adults around him. "How'd I get it?" 

Dumbledore shook his head. "We were hoping you could tell us," he said gently. "What's the last thing you remember?" 

"Um." The boy squeezed his eyes closed, and scowled in effort. Then he looked back up at the Headmaster, confusion in his black eyes. "I don't know. It's weird. It's like everything happened a long time ago but not. Like, I know what happened, but I'm not really sure what the _last_ thing I remember was. I know that Black blew up Potter's shirking potion by putting in too many shrivelfigs, and that we had a minor duel outside the Great Hall. But I don't know which came first." He looked down at the Mark again, "And I don't remember getting a tattoo at all. It still kinda stings." He rubbed at it absently. 

The Headmaster pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down next to the sitting boy. "Severus," he began solemnly. The boy looked at him curiously. Hagrid and Poppy watched, almost afraid to move. Neither had ever seen Snape this open and were afraid of breaking the spell. Dumbledore continued, "What do you remember about Voldemort?" 

The boy frowned thoughtfully. "Lucious talks about him a lot. He says," Severus stopped, looking at Dumbledore shrewdly. "I probably shouldn't be talking to you about this." 

Dumbldore only smiled. "Severus, I promise I won't expel you or Lucious Malfoy for what you tell me." 

Severus shook his head. "That's not it, Headmaster. It's bigger than Hogwarts, sir." 

"Simply passing along rumours will not get anyone imprisoned, Severus. It is important I know what you know of Voldemort." 

The boy looked at his hands uncertainly. "All right. He's a Dark Wizard. The wave of the future, Lu- that is, some people say. He's big on purity of blood and all that, and grants power to his supporters. He's apparently got a bunch of followers already, and more are lining up, just waiting to be old enough. Not really sure what the big deal is, but I'm just a second year. Lu- um, some of the older wannabe followers do their recruiting in the fifth and sixth years. It's considered to be a real honor to be approached, especially for fifth years." He stole a quick look up at the Headmaster, then back to his hands. "Is that what you wanted to know?" 

"Do you know what his supporters do?" Dumbledore asked softly, "Or how to recognize one?" 

Severus shrugged. "Not really. I guess they kill people, some of them. Do Dark things. Dunno. How to recognize one? Um, they wear masks?" 

The Headmaster gently took Severus's Marked arm in his hand. "Voldemort brands each of his followers, Severus, binding them to him, claiming them as his own. It can never be removed or reversed. This is what his Dark Mark looks like." 

Severus looked down at the Mark again, surrounded now by Dumbledore's fingers. He looked paler than ever, and Hagrid could almost make out a faint shaking along his small frame. "Me?" He lifted wide, scared eyes toward the Headmaster. "Are you going to put me in Azkaban now? Honest, I don't remember getting it, I thought it was just a cool tattoo." 

"I know, child. You won't go Azkaban." 

The boy flopped back onto his pillow in relief, his arm still held by the Headmaster. "Phew." 

"But you must be care that no one see it, Severus, do you understand that?" 

He nodded. "I'm a Slytherin, sir. Of course." He pushed himself back up into a sitting position. "So you're just gonna let me be a Dark Wizard, sir?" 

The Headmaster gave him a sharp look. "Absolutely not! I understand that your Mark was none of your choosing, that you can remember anyway, so I cannot punish you for it. But if I learn of you truly following any Dark practices, you will certainly be answerable for it. Clear?" 

Severus seemed to shrink under the admonishment. "As crystal, sir." 

"Good," Dumbledore nodded. Then he visibly softened. "There is something else you need to know, Severus." 

The boy looked at him warily. "If you tell me the mole on my leg means I'm forever bound to the Church of England, I don't want to hear it." 

Dumbledore smiled faintly, but his eyes' twinkle had dimmed. "Severus, we are no longer in the year you believe it to be." The boy's eyes narrowed, but he did not respond. "It's 1995." 

Severus looked at him disbelievingly. "If you were Black, I'd consider that an insult to my intelligence, sir." 

The Headmaster chuckled. "I appreciate your silent compliment that I don't look any older. Perhaps if I bring in Minerva you might be more inclined to belief." At Severus's confused look, he added, "Professor McGonagall." The confusion cleared, and the boy shrugged. Dumbledore turned slightly, "Hagrid?" Severus jumped, just now remembering that there were other parties in the room. 

"Aye, Dumbledore, sir." Hagrid left to fetch the Head of Gryffindor House, not really certain whether or not the old wizard had insulted her by suggesting that she _had_ visibly aged in the last thirty or so years. But then, there were far more changes between 40 and 70 years of age than there were between 120 and 150. Poppy had only joined the staff about fifteen years ago, and Hagrid knew he himself hadn't changed much, even assuming the Slytherin second-year had paid the half-giant groundskeeper much heed. 

When he returned with McGonagall, Severus was still sitting up in bed, but his Mark had been wrapped in a bandage. Apparently, discussion of the elapsed years had been put off until proven, and the Headmaster and the boy were discussing the relative merits of James Potter's appointment to his Quiddich team as only a second year. 

Dumbledore smiled at the new arrivals, and Severus stared at McGonagall, black eyes widening. For her part, McGonagall was returning a stunned look at the boy. Hagrid hadn't really been sure how to explain the situation to her, and so had only told her to come to the hospital wing. 

Of the two, Severus recovered first. He had, after all, had some warning. "So it really is 1995? Swear to Merlin?" 

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "Swear to Merlin. It really is 1995." 

Severus tried unsuccessfully to blink back his astonishment. "Must have been asleep longer'n I thought." 

The Headmaster looked up at his Deputy Headmistress. "Minerva, you remember Severus," he said with only a hint of irony, "he's twelve, still." 

"Twelve," she repeated faintly. 

Severus cocked his head curiously, "But if this is 1995, then how come I'm still little? Shouldn't I be, like, ancient?" 

"Forty years old is not ancient, Mr. Snape," McGonagall remarked coolly. 

The boy made a face halfway between surprise and dimay, "Forty?! I'm supposed to be forty? Bloody He-" 

"Mr. Snape!" McGonagall cut him off sharply. 

He flinched back from her tone, but did not look in the least apologetic. Instead, he looked between the two Professors, then asked carefully, "So I've been asleep, and not aging, in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing for some thirty years?" 

"No," Dumbledore said softly, and even McGonagall's expression turned almost sympathetic. "Two days ago you were a forty year old man." 

The boy's eyes narrowed. "Then why am I twelve again?" 

"Two days ago, our forty year old Professor Snape," Dumbledore paused as the boy goggled at him in disbelief, "went to spy on a meeting of Voldemort's followers. He didn't return that night or the next day. About two hours ago, we found you, unconscious, just outside the Gates. We have no idea what happened during those two days or how you came to be twelve again." 

"Oh." Hagrid took it to be the 'I-still-have-no-idea-what-you're-talking-about-but-I'll-pretend-I-do' type of 'oh.' The boy looked like he was trying to digest this new information, and not particularly succeeding. The other adults in the room waited, Hagrid wasn't quite sure what for. When the silence started to grow uncomfortable, Severus looked up at the Headmaster. "So what now?" 

Dumbledore sighed. "I suppose you can't teach as you are. I'll need to find a substitute potions instructor. You, I suppose, will take second year classes until we can find a way to return your memory and age." 

Severus nodded slowly. "Ok. Um. What about, um, the tattoo?" He touched a hand to the bandage. 

"You'll be safe here. Just tell me if and when it hurts." 

The boy nodded, and missed the sharp look McGonagall shot at the Headmaster. 

"Severus, I have question of preference for you." The boy looked up at him inquiringly. "Do you want to be Severus Snape turned twelve again, a younger relative of yourself, or someone entirely independant of our Potions Master?" 

He frowned thoughtfully. "Not a relative. I'd be expected to know more about the old me than I do." He scooted backward and leaned against the headboard. "At a guess, I'd say my grown-up teacher self won't like to be associated with a twelve year old. Specially if I get in trouble." He looked between the Headmaster and McGonagall quickly, "Not that I plan to get in trouble. It just sometimes happens, ya know?" 

Dumbledore chuckled, though McGonagall assumed a stern look. "Quite so," Dumbledore agreed lightly. 

"So I think I'll be somebody entirely different. It'll be fun, too." 

"You'll need to be reSorted then," Dumbledore warned. 

Severus shrugged. "Sure. I'll probably still end up in Slytherin. Even quicker'n before, what with a secret identity, and the, the tattoo, right?" 

The Headmaster smiled sadly, "Most probably, child." 

Severus nodded, though it was obvious his thoughts were no longer on the discussion. "So I'm really in 1995?" 

"You really are," Dumbledore reiterated. 

"That's so unbelievable." His awed expression suddenly turned worried. "I don't know anyone now, do I? They all grew up. No friends, no Potter, no - do my parents know I'm twelve again?" 

"Severus, child, even if you were still twelve in truth, your parents soon wouldn't be able to care for you anymore." 

Black eyes grew wide and scared. "They're dead?" 

"I'm sorry, child." 

The boy squeezed back tears, then looked back up at Dumbledore dry-eyed. "So I'm alone. Who's my Head of House now?" 

Dumbledore startled, and looked at McGonagall, then back to the boy. "Well, it was . . . you." 

Serverus began to laugh, softly at first, then louder until Hagrid could no longer distinguish whether the child was laughing or crying. Poppy took this as the signal that the visitors had overstayed their welcome and were now upsetting her patient. She shooed them out without quarter. 

In the corridor outside the Infirmary, McGonagall turned on the Headmaster. "He thinks he's twelve." 

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "He looks younger, though. His body, at a guess, I'd put at only nine or ten. He was tall for a child, as I recall. We'll need to tell all the professors who had him before who he really is." 

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Still has the Mark, though? He didn't have it this young last time, did he?" 

"No," Dumbledore assured hastily, "no, certainly not. He thought it was just a tattoo until I told him about it. He doesn't know how he got it." 

"How long do you suppose it will be until he's back to normal?" 

The twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes was nowhere in evidence. "Perhaps a week. Perhaps when a counter potion or spell is discovered. Perhaps not ever. We don't know how this happened or whether or not it's permanent." 

* * *

Poppy Pomphrey was checking her potions inventory when a bloodcurling scream interrupted her work. Jumping to her feet, she ran to the infirmary proper, where Severus was thrashing back and forth on his bed. Hurrying to his side, she rested a cool hand on his burning forehead. _Fever dreams,_ she diagnosed. The chances of waking him were pretty slim, but she tried anyway. "Severus, wake up," she told him, sharply and loudly, shaking his shoulder. 

To her surprise, his eyes snapped open. They turned to her, wide and terrified. "It's alright, child," she said softly and gently, running a hand along his sweat dampened black hair. "It was a dream." 

He shook his head. "It wasn't. I know where I got the tattoo, now." 

The tattoo. The Dark Mark. "Oh, child," she sat on the edge of his bed and gathered him in her arms. He held on as though she were all that stood between him and the abyss. She felt him shaking even through her robes and his. "Do you want to talk about it?" He shook his head without pulling away. She sat there and rocked him until the trembling subsided and disentangled himself from her. 

"I'm sorry," he said. 

"Whatever for, child?" 

"Crying. Father said never to do that." 

She brushed gently at a wet track on his cheek. "Severus, you have every reason in the world to cry. It's perfectly all right." 

He shrugged, not believing her. "It's weak." 

She sighed, knowing the argument could only end in stalemate. "Can you talk about what you remembered?" 

He looked at her quickly, eyes betraying a haunted terror. 

"You don't have to if you don't feel comfortable yet," she hastened to assure him. 

The look in his eyes did not lessen. "I woke up lying in a puddle of mud and water and something sticky. Blood, I think. It was dark and we were outside. There were a bunch of grown-ups surrounding me. More than six, but less than fifteen, I think. They were standing in a circle around me. There was another grown-up in the middle with me, but he was different. He wasn't wearing the same dark robes and wearing the same blank mask as the ones in the circle. He didn't look very human. White skin and red eyes and all twisted looking. He asked how old I was. I told him 'twelve' and he laughed. So did the grown-ups in the circle, but they didn't sound as happy as he did. 

"I asked who he was, but he ignored it. He asked my name, and I told him 'Severus Snape.' He laughed again. He asked who my master was, and I said I didn't know what he meant. That made him mad. He grabbed my left arm and looked at it. It didn't have the tattoo then. He got madder. He told me to kneel or he'd kill me, so I kneeled. He meant it, too. 

He said something about an initiation, but he was squeezing my wrist so hard, that it was all I could do not to show that it hurt. I didn't really hear most of what he said until he let go by pushing me face first into the mud. He told me to stand, so I did. He asked who my master was again, then told me to say 'You, my Lord.' Then he repeated the question again. So I said 'You, my Lord.' It would've been a real bad idea to cross him. He would've killed me, I know it. 

"He smiled at my answer, and I felt cold. He took my left arm again and pressed his wand against it. He said a spell, and then my arm hurt like it was going to fall off. I think I screamed. Next I knew, I was lying in the mud again. He told me kneel, so I kneeled. My arm was bleeding, so I unrolled the sleeve, which was way too big for me, and pressed it against the wound. This made him mad again. 

"He grabbed me up by the front of my robes and lifted me clear off the groud. For such a twisted man, he sure was strong. I held onto his wrists to keep from choking. He seemed to find this amusing, so he lowered me back to my feet. Half afraid of another attack, I didn't let go of his wrist. He smiled again only it was scarier than any glare I've ever seen. He put a hand on my shoulder like a proud teacher would. Again, he asked who my master was. 

"I'm a quick learner. I said 'You, my Lord,' right off, and even sounded like I meant it. He sort of chuckled. I let him pull me into a loose hug. My aunts do that all the time and it's easier just to give in and pretend to like it or they get all offended and you end up grounded for not being a proper young host. But where my aunts are more overly and disgustingly affectionate, he was, I guess, possessive. Like how you'd hold your cat if someone else was trying to steal it. 

"He told me I was his now. He told me I had an important message to deliver. And then he hit me with the Cruciatus curse, and the next I knew I woke up in here." He looked up from the bedclothes he had been intently studying since his second word. "I don't understand." 

He looked much calmer now that he had told his story, but he was still pale. Carefully, Poppy asked, "What don't you understand?" 

"If I'm supposed to be his, why did he send me to Dumbledore? That's who he's afraid will steal me, I'm sure of it." 

"I'm afraid he's who you were to give the message to." 

The boy's confusion only increased. "That's the other thing. He never told me what I was supposed to tell or to who." 

Poppy smiled sadly. "You are the message. It was received loud and clear. You-Know-Who does not take well to spies and turncoats. I suspect he'll try to win you for good this time around." 

"Why me? Why are they fighting over _me_?" 

"Because you're an important player on the board." 

He shook his head. "But I'm just Severus. Just Severus." 

Poppy took his hand in both of hers. "Severus, in your previous incarnation, you went to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named voluntarily. Then you swtiched sides and came to Dumbledore. You played a pivotal role as a spy within You-Know-Who's ranks, bringing back critical information and helping where you could without jeopardizing your cover. A hero, if you will, though your older self never believed that. Apparently, You-Know-Who finally learned of your treachery. As a matter of pride, I suppose, he's going to try to win you back and for good." 

"And he'll kill me if I give any indication I'm not a hundred percent his." 

"I fear so." 

The boy looked into the middle distance, looking far older than twelve, but still much less than forty. Then he focused on her again with an intensity she found disturbing. "I don't like being controlled. Voldemort's going down. I'll spy again." 

"Child, you're only twelve now." 

He pulled away from her attempted touch. "I'm Severus Snape. I did it before. And, frankly, unless I really become his, I don't have a choice." He touched his bandaged left arm. "He's already claimed me." 

Poppy could only look at him sorrowfully and nod. "Shall I call down the Headmaster?" 

"Yeah, I guess so." 

* * *

_review please?_


	2. Second Chance

** Twelve Again  
Chapter Two: A Second Chance **

  
  
Summary: Severus Snape returns from a DE meeting, but something is seriously wrong. He's a kid again. Takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places are not mine.   
  
  
Albus Dumbledore looked down at the sleeping boy pityingly. Poppy had called him down, saying that Severus had remembered getting the Dark Mark, but in the fifteen minutes it took to receive the message and arrive in the Hospital wing, the exhausted child had drifted off to sleep again. He fondly brushed the dark locks away from the boy's face. 

"He wants to spy," Poppy said softly, entering the room behind him. 

Albus turned toward her abruptly. "Spy? But he's only twelve!" Amazing, really, how quickly he had accepted that his sarcastic potions master was only a child again. Nor was he alone in that. 

Poppy looked sadly at the child on the bed. "I tried to tell him that. He's growing up too quickly." She seemed to have forgotten already that, two days ago, the boy on the bed had been a man she hadn't particularly liked. 

"Faster even than last time," Albus agreed quietly. "Though I'm not certain Voldemort didn't do him a favor by returning him to this age." 

Poppy shot him a hard look. "You-Know-Who doesn't do favors." 

Albus did not look up from the child's peaceful sleep. A sleep the older Severus would have found impossible. "No doubt he'll try to exact payment, but he did give Severus a second chance. Something he's wanted for a long time. Of course, the boy Severus doesn't realize what he has gained." As an afterthought, he added, "Nor lost, for that matter." 

Poppy nodded reluctantly. "Still. He's only twelve." 

Albus chuckled. "He's thirty-nine." 

"Oh, good," a sleepy voice commented. "I'm not forty yet after all." The boy rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, but didn't open them. "This is one really weird dream, ya know? Pity I can't tell anyone about it. All my friends are pro-Voldemort. Might mess up my chances." He rolled over and went back to sleep. 

Poppy and Albus exchanged worried looks. "He is still a second year Slytherin from the time of Voldemort's first rise to power," Albus said softly, "without the benefits of experience our potions master has had. I doubt he's completely out of the dark, even yet." 

"I doubt our _potions master_ was ever completely out of the dark, either," Poppy remarked with a touch of acid. 

Albus gave her a reproachful glance but did not comment. 

He was in and out of the hospital wing for the next several hours, waiting for the boy to wake up again. Even if Poppy would have let him, Albus was not about to wake the child himself. The fourth time he entered the room, the boy stirred, and began thrashing about. "No!" Severus cried out, but did not awaken. 

Albus found Poppy quickly, and explained, "He's having nightmares." 

They returned to his side in time to see him sit up suddenly, defiantly yelling out, "I'm not yours!" Either the dream, the sitting, or the shout threw off the dream, and he eyed the Hospital Wing with something akin to relief, still breathing hard. He tucked sweaty black hair behind his ears, and looked up at his visitors. "Hi," he greeted them breathlessly. 

"Hi yourself," Albus returned, allowing the boy the illusion of normalcy. If Severus wanted to talk about it, he would. 

He used an over-large sleeve to wipe sweat from his brow. Albus made a mental note to find him some more appropriate wear. "I know where I got the tattoo," he said without further preamble. 

"Oh?" Poppy had said he remembered, but she hadn't wanted to give the details. That was Severus's story to tell. 

"Voldemort gave it to me." That was hardly surprising, but the anger and resentment in the child's voice was. Poppy had worriedly commented that when he told her about it, he had been almost completely emotionless, as though talking about something he'd heard about, not experienced. Most of the older Severus's reports had been in the same tone. Initially, scared or angry or upset, but when the words started to flow, completely dead. 

"He burned it into my arm and told me I was his." Indignation, now. "Made me call him my master." Black eyes met blue, and Albus read humiliation and outrage in them. "I'm mine. Not his. Mine." The boy's black eyes seemed to burn, and Albus felt a response was expected from him. 

"Of course, child." 

"So, I'm going to spy." Albus was about to argue, but the boy cut him off. "Mine!" Albus startled at the ferocity in the child's voice. "I'm mine. Not his. Not yours. And I will spy." 

There was really only one thing to say to that. "Of course, child." 

"And I'm Severus Snape. Not gonna change just because I'm little again." 

"Of course, child." Albus wondered if that had been a thought-out decision or simple injured pride speaking. But it was Severus's choice and he wasn't about to question the child in his current mood. 

"Can't be a spy, if nobody knows I'm really me, after all." So it was a considered decision, then. Good. "Voldemort wants Severus Snape, not some John Smith." 

"Quite so." 

This seemed to mollify him. He suddenly looked ten again. "So, when do I start classes again? Who's in my year? What teachers do I know? What important stuff did I miss that I'll be expected to know about? How many weeks into the year are we? Did I miss any lessons? Do -" 

Albus chuckled his first real laugh since Severus returned, interrupting the torrent of questions. "One at a time, child, one at a time!" 

* * *

Severus pulled on the school robes over the uniform that the Headmaster had found for him. He looked over at the closed door of the infirmary an called out, "Ok! I'm ready!" 

The door opened, and Madam Pomphrey entered. He spread his arms and spun for her inspection. "Fits?" 

She nodded. "Fits," she agreed. She pointed her wand at a corner of the room, and a mirror popped into existance. "Take a look." 

Severus approached the mirror, and let out a yelp of surprise and dismay at his reflection. "I'm a little kid!" he exclaimed. 

In the mirror, he could see the mediwitch's amusement. "Of course you are, child. You're twelve again, remember?" 

He pointed at his mirror image in irritation. "He's not twelve! He's like six!" 

She shook her head and tried to look solemn. "No younger than nine. Our best guess for your physical age, based on your medical records, is that you're probably ten." 

Severus stared at her for a long moment. His irritation slowly dwindled, and was replaced with ironic amusement. He fought back a smirk, and tried to hold on to the irritation, but he ultimately failed as snort of laughter escaped. This attracted the mediwitch's attention, and she raised an inquiring eyebrow. 

"I'm all messed up, aren't I? What'm I supposed to answer when someone asks how old I am? 'Chronologically, thirty nine. Mentally, twelve, and physically, ten'?" 

"You can probably safely stick to 'twelve,'" she assured him. "You're tall for your physical age, and you don't look significantly younger than other twelve year olds." 

"But I _liked_ being the tallest in my class." 

"Don't whine, child. It's beneath you." He nodded, taking the admonishment in stride and to heart. She was right, of course. "You're expected in the Great Hall for dinner, so you'd best hurry along now." 

He nodded, but paused just before leaving the room. He turned back to the nurse and gave her an uncertain smile. "Thank you, Madam Pomphrey." 

She clucked at him and shooed him away, but he knew she appreciated the thanks. 

He hurried down through the halls, feeling simoultaneously as though he never left and that it had been a very long time since he'd passed these paintings and stones as a student. It was the weirdest feeling. He was just twelve. Just Severus. But twenty-seven years had passed since his last memory of Hogwarts. He knew it intellectually, but when he passed a group of students who looked his age, but that he didn't recognize, it really hit home. 

He had to stop and lean against a wall and think about breathing. In and out. Breathe in. Breathe out. No good to panic, it won't help. He was in 1995, whether he was ready for it or not. Breathe. When he felt he had sufficiently recovered his calm, and effectively surpressed the thoughts of being out of place and time, he continued his journey to the Great Hall. Nobody seemed to be paying him much mind, but he expected that to change soon enough. 

If _his_ potions master had suddenly turned into a second year, _he'd_ stare at the new kid, too. That was most of the reason why he'd initally wanted to become someone new. But the memory of Voldemort changed all that, and if he had to face down stares and mistaken preconceptions, then he'd do just that. He wasn't about to let anyone run his life, not even his old self. 

He found the Headmaster at the teacher's entrance where he'd been told to meet him. "Hello, Severus," the old wizard greeted him. 

"You didn't tell me I was only ten," he accused. 

The wizard's blue eyes twinkled, and him mouth quirked. Surpressing a laugh no doubt. But then his expression abruptly turned serious. "There were more important matters to discuss." 

Severus nodded, accepting the explanation. "So I'm getting introduced tonight?" He already knew the answer, but it was an easy way to shift focus back to the issue at hand. Without waiting for an answer to his rhetorical question, he added another, "Do they know that their potions master had a . . . accident?" For lack of a better way of putting it. 

Dumbledore shook his head. "They know Professor Snape is currently unable to teach potions, but they do not know why." The Headmaster pushed open the side door, and indicated Severus should enter. He did, and the old wizard followed close behind. A hand on his shoulder steered him toward the teacher's High Table, and he took the seat Dumbledore told him to take. The teachers already at the table looked at him oddly. Some of them gave him double takes, shocked looks on their faces. These were usually the ones he'd had. The ones he didn't know tended to just look at him and shrug his presence off as one of the Headmaster's whims. 

The table was a little taller than the student's tables. Or perhaps it was just that he was used to his twelve year old body rather than his ten year old one. In either case, he couldn't really see his plate that well, so he shifted to a kneeling position on his chair. From this greater height, he could see beyond the teacher's table and into where the students sat. 

Most of them weren't present yet, but those that were, were beginning to notice the second-year sitting with the teachers. They pointed him out to their friends, and he wasn't sure if he was more disappointed or thankful that he couldn't hear what they were saying. He wondered if they recognized him as their potions master, or just as a random kid. 

His thoughts were interrupted as Professor Flitwick cleared his throat and asked tentatively, "Severus?" 

Severus turned toward his Charms professor, lifting an eyebrow curiously. "Yes?" he asked politely. 

It was quite amusing to see the little professor almost fall over backwards. The short exchange drew the notice of other nearby professors, and one that he didn't know lifted her brows clear to her hair line. "You're Snape?" 

Severus rolled his eyes and dropped against the back of his chair and responded in irritated boredom, "I know what my name is. What's yours?" It was cruel, he knew it was cruel. But it was just so much fun seeing their faces turn that many different colors and shapes. The Headmaster, he noticed, was enjoying the show just as much as he was. 

"Cla-Claudia Hooch," the professor he didn't know answered, her yellow eyes wide with disbelief. 

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Professor Cla-Claudia Hooch. What do you teach?" Oh, the stunned looked on their faces was worth coming twenty-seven years into the future. Or losing twenty-seven years of memory. Or whatever it was that bloody well happened. 

"Flying." Severus was rather impressed that she didn't stutter again. 

"Oh." Flying instructor. That wasn't a proper professor's position. He scanned the table and picked out his old herbology professor, "You're looking good, Professor Sprout. You barely look a day older since '68." His mother's hospitality and courtesy lessons were clearly paying off. He had all of his professors speechless. It was a heady feeling of power. On Sprout's other side, he saw rumpled looking man with greying brown hair, "Hello, sir, and your name is?" 

The man looked like he was surpressing a laugh or smirk. It was an expression that gave Severus a sinkingly familiar feeling. His eyes widened. "You're not _Lupin,_ are you, sir?" he blurted. Blast it, he wasn't supposed to call Remus 'sir'. Remus was _his_ age. Sort of. Dumbledore should have _warned_ him. 

"Hello to you, too, Mr. Snape," Lupin said, his eyes twinkling in amusement. 

"Merlin, you look _old_." Okay, he could admit it. He just _completely_ flunked out of his mother's lessons. 

"You look rather younger yourself, Mr. Snape," Lupin probed, not taking offense. 

Well, after that old comment, the least he could do was explain. Lupin was evidently one of his _professors_. How weird can things get? "Yeah, I'm twelve. Madam Pomphrey says I'm actually physically ten. Headmaster Dumbledore's going to put me in Second Year classes, though. That's what I remember to." Blast, they were starting to pity him. He didn't need pity. He didn't want pity. "It's really cool. It's like I time travelled. Or slept for thirty years like that muggle from the States. Rip Van Crumple or something." 

"Winkle, Rip Van Winkle*, and he only slept for twenty years," a professor he didn't know corrected, "after a dwarf gave him an overdose of the Drought of the Living Death." He smiled. "I'm Wallace Vestry, the Muggle Studies professor, Mr. Snape." 

Severus nodded. "Nice to meet you, sir." Perhaps he could at least _try_ to redeem his mother's respect. 

Further conversation and discovery was cut short by Dumbledore tapping his spoon on his glass, drawing the attention of every student and professor. Severus sat up on his knees again, to get a good look at his new classmates. There were lots of them, and he didn't recognize - oh. A Malfoy at the Slytherin table. No mistaking that. He looked just like Lucious. Couldn't be Lucious though. A Crabbe and Goyle beside him, too. Then, there. Gryffindor. A Potter. Older than his Potter though. About Lucious's age. Fifth or sixth year, probably. The Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were about the same age, too. Lucious had been a sixth where he came from. 

"Your attention, please," the Headmaster called out, though he already had it. "Many of you may have noticed that potions classes have been cancelled for the last three days. A substitute will be found as soon as possible. Unfornately, Professor Snape will no longer be able to teach -" 

A cheer rose up from the Gryffindor table. Severus sent a hard glare in their direction. 

"- Unable to teach," Dumbledore repeated, raising his voice, "due to his amnesia and physical condition." He nodded his head toward Severus, "In the meantime, he will be attending second year classes until a cure can be found. Severus, if you would join Slytherin table?" 

Severus nodded, and climbed down from his teacher's seat and went to sit at the end of his normal House table. He felt the eyes of the entire school follow him. He nodded politely to the students nearest him as he sat down. "Hello, I'm Severus." 

They smiled nervously at him. 

"I'm twelve." He felt like a bloody four-year old stating his name and age to everybody he met. He wondered if he should hold up ten fingers to complete the act. "What year are you?" 

A girl with white-blond hair looked at him with uncertainty. "Third year. Don't you know that, professor?" 

Severus sighed. "I'm twelve. Professor Snape was thirty-nine. Anything that happened since 1968, I don't remember. Pretend your Professor Snape and me are two entirely different people and we'll get along great. What I don't know about his life is more than twice of what I've lived." 

"Oh." 

"Who's a second year?" 

She pointed down the table. "That's Malcolm Baddock, and the boy next to him is Graham Pritchard. They're the only second years I know. Sir-" 

"Severus," he interrupted sharply. 

"Se-Severus, who's our Head of House, if you're a student now?" 

He shrugged. "Dunno. The Headmaster said he was looking for somebody. Probably'll be whoever he gets to fill potions. It was the DADA teacher when I was in school, but Remus sure can't do it." 

"Remus?!" 

Severus blushed. "Er, Professor Lupin. That sounds so wrong. He _used_ to be in my year." 

"He's a werewolf, you know." 

He stared at her. "Remus? No way." 

"Is so. You said so." 

Severus studied her for signs of a gag in progress, but saw none. He narrowed his eyes, considering the possibility. "Huh. I thought he just got sick a lot. Missed a lot of classes last - er - my first year." 

"Missed a lot of classes my first year, too, when he taught the first time," she agreed knowledgably. 

"He doesn't now?" 

She shrugged. "Haven't had him on a full moon yet this year. But probably still does. He wasn't teaching last year. He was a werewolf, ya know? But nobody else would take the position this year. It's cursed, you know. And, honestly, Lupin's the best they've had in ages, according to my older brothers. Even if he is a werewolf." 

Severus nodded thoughtfully. "Kinda makes sense, if you think about it. Who's gonna know more about werewolves and other dark creatures than someone whose life revolves around that kind of thing? He wasn't that great at curses in first year though. Hope he got better." 

She laughed. "If the way you hated each other was any indication, my guess would be that he did." 

Severus smirked. That made a twisted kind of sense. "Oh," he said suddenly, extending a hand in her direction. "Severus Snape." 

She laughed again. "Katryna Tragyl." She returned the handshake. 

He grinned at her. "Pleased to meet you." Better late than never. Though, his mum would still be upset. 

* * *

_review please?_   
  
* Rip Van Winkle, by Washington Irving. A folk tale well known in the Hudson River Valley of New York state. Rip Van Winkle slept for 20 years. The entire Revolutionary War occurred between when he went down and when he got up. 


	3. Make it Stop

** Twelve Again **

  
  
Summary: Severus Snape returns from a DE meeting, but something is seriously wrong. He's a kid again. Takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places are not mine.   
  
  
"MINE!" Severus screamed, waking himself and most of his dormmates with the shout. He looked around frantically, finding himself safe in the Slytherin dungeons. He was a little disconcerted to find Malcolm Baddock glaring at him from Evan Rosier's bed, but then remembered about the time shift thing throwing everything off-kilter. Evan Rosier had graduated decades ago. 

He glared at the classmates still giving him nasty looks. "Oh, go back to sleep," he muttered, then dropped back down onto his pillow to try to do the same. He had barely laid down again when he realized that wasn't going to work. After the nightmare, he was far too keyed up to sleep. Deciding a walk would be the best way to bleed off the adrenaline and nervous energy, he checked that his dormmates were at least on their way to dreamland again, then slipped from the dormitory. 

The deserted common room only made him feel more restless, so he slipped out into the dungeon hallways of Hogwarts. Should he get caught, he'd just tell Filch that he'd had a nightmare and was going to talk to the Headmaster about it. It would satisfy the caretaker and Severus felt that Dumbledore would let him get away with almost anything short of physical attack. He'd heard rumours from the other young Slytherins about how Harry Potter, like James, could often get away from troublemaking with a point bonus rather than point decrement. What with being the altered potions master and a spy, Severus felt he qualified for the same leniency. 

His excuse firmly established in him mind, so that if Filch startled him, it would be the first thing out of his mouth, Severus started to walk. He didn't know nor care where his feet took him, he just needed to _walk_. He concentrated his mind on just putting one foot in front of the other. He didn't want to think right now. His sole purpose was to exhaust himself so that when he returned to his bed, he could just collapse and not dream. 

He had no idea how long he had been walking when he was suddenly consumed with a deep burning sensation that started in his left arm and spread through him. He bit back a scream, but he hunched over the arm, and slid down a convenient wall, failing to hold back tears of agony. 

The air seemed to shiver off to his left, from the direction he had come from, but that might have just been an affect of the water in his eyes, so he dismissed it. The pain was more than enough to occupy his mind anyway. He gasped as another wave a fire passed through him. He curled into a tight ball. 

A hand touched his shoulder, and he startled. He had no idea who the other was, but they were present and (presumably) human, and therefore qualified on all counts as his current best friend. He leaned against the other crying into their shirt. "Make it stop," he whispered. "It _hurts_." 

Awkwardly, arms wrapped around him. "What hurts?" 

His best friend was young and male. He discoved this by the sound of his voice and the shape of his body. He was just as glad he hadn't been crying on Filch or McGonagall, though even if it had been one of them he wouldn't have overly cared. "Tattoo. Everything. Make it stop." 

"Tattoo?" 

Severus fought with his sleeve and the bandage, and showed his friend the Mark, without ever taking his head from the other boy's shoulder. Without ever opening his eyes. "That tattoo." 

There was a sharp intake of breath, and the body next to his stiffened. "We're going to Dumbledore." 

Severus nodded. Why hadn't he thought of that? Hadn't the Headmaster said to come if it hurt? As he was helped to his feet, he discovered his friend was a good deal taller than himself. Leaning heavily on the taller boy, Severus decided introductions were in order. It was something to think about besides the pain. "I'm Severus Snape." 

The other boy's step faultered briefly. "Harry Potter." 

Potter. Of course it would be Potter. Still. "Thank you." 

Again, the missed step. Merlin, didn't anyone think he knew how to be polite? "You're welcome." 

A third wave of fire hit and Severus would have collapsed if Harry hadn't grabbed him. "Make it _stop_!" he cried out involuntarily. He didn't really expect Potter to be able to help. 

"If anyone can, Dumbledore will," Harry assured him. They continued walking, much quicker than he had been before, and this time with a definite destination in mind. 

"Why does it hurt?" he asked when he grown accustomed enough to the new level of pain to be able to listen to the answer. 

"You're being summoned." Potter's voice was flat. 

Severus ignored the tone. "Summoned. By Voldemort?" 

"Who bloody else would summon you Death Eaters?" 

"Death Eaters are the followers of Voldemort, right?" 

Potter stopped, perforce making Severus come to a halt as well. The lack of progress toward Dumbledore was almost an additional physical pain. Severus looked up at his companion for the first time, glaring. He really did look an awful lot like James. Older, of course, but how he'd imagine James would look in fifth year. It did not improve his mood. 

"You don't know that?" 

"Can we keep walking?" Severus asked plaintively, failing to keep the desperation from his voice. 

"Oh, right." They continued their journey, to Severus's relief. "You don't know what a Death Eater is?" 

Severus shook his head. "Voldemort was just rising when I was a Second Year the first time. His followers hadn't been given any special name yet. Rumours of the Dark Lord were spreading, but they hadn't made it to the mainstream wizarding community yet. I mostly heard about him from my father or Lucious Malfoy. They talked about 'like-minded wizards,' not Death Eaters." 

"Oh." They walked in silence for a short time. "How'd you get the Mark?" 

"He'd've killed me if I didn't take it," he answered shortly, not wanting to talk about it. Thinking about the Mark made the pain that much harder to ignore. "What's he summoning me for and how would I go?" 

"You're not thinking of _going_?" 

"Can't spy if I don't." 

He felt Potter's eyes on him. "Spy?" 

Why was that so hard for people to grasp? His older self did it and nobody thought twice about that. "Yes." 

"But you're, um, twelve. Sort of." 

Severus gave him a withering look. "I'm mine." Potter just looked more confused. "Voldemort made me as his without asking me about it. But I'm mine. And I'm going to make sure it stays that way." 

"So you're going to go, alone, into his stronghold, where he can do who knows what to you until you are truly his? You might have been Professor Snape a few days ago, but now you're not. No Second Year can stand against him." 

"You did," Severus said quietly. 

Harry Potter walked with him in silence the rest of the way to Dumbledore's office. 

* * *

Harry Potter continued to eye the younger version of Severus Snape as the staircase spiraled them up to Dumbledore's office. The potions master - no, the _boy_ - was living up to none of his expectations. He wasn't sarcastic and rude. He wasn't hateful or bitter. What he was, quite frankly, was young, vulnerable, hurt, and dangerously possesive of his own life. Though, truthfully, Harry couldn't blame him for this last. 

When Harry had first noticed him wandering the halls, he had been suspicious and started to tail him. When Harry had seen him collapse in obvious pain, he had been concerned and tried to help help him. When Harry had been used as a shoulder to cry on, he had been stunned and awkwardly held the boy. When Harry was so trustingly shown the Dark Mark, he had been astonished and insisted on seeing Dumbledore. When Severus Snape the self-admitted Death Eater had agreed readily and eagerly, Harry had been confused. 

Only when Snape had asked what a Death Eater was did Harry realize and accept that the child-like body of his potions master really was exactly what it looked like: a child. A possibly misled Slytherin child, but a child none-the-less. Which really threw Harry for a loop when the boy said he was a spy. 

He had tried to point out the dangers to the young Snape, but the quiet, confident, and trusting rejoinder of "You did" really had no response. Aside from pointing out that he had had Ron and Hermione to help his first year, and he was only facing a teenaged Tom Riddle his second, or pointing out that his mother had died for him, there wasn't much he _could_ say. Harry decided it was Snape's call to make. Or if not Snape's, then some adult's. Harry could only hope the little (it was really weird being taller than Snape) Slytherin knew what he was doing and that he wasn't getting in way over his head. 

The door to Dumbledore's office opened as they reached it, and Harry wasn't particularly surprised to see that the Headmaster was still awake, even at two in the morning. Truthfully, Harry wasn't convinced the old wizard ever slept. Same went for Filch and grown-up Snape. 

The Headmaster looked unusually solemn as the two students entered. Snape went right to him, showing the Mark as though it weren't something shameful. "It hurts. A lot. Harry said Voldemort is summoning me. How do I go?" There was something strangely innocent about asking _Dumbledore_ of all people how to go to a Death Eater meeting. 

"You don't know how to Apperate yet?" 

Snape shook his head. "'Course not. I'm just a second year." 

"Then you can't go." Snape's black gaze darkened on the Headmaster. Dumbledore raised a hand quickly, "I'm not denying you permission, Severus. You simply cannot go. To answer a summons, the elder Severus would go outside the Apperation barriers, touch his wand to his Mark, and then Apperate. There is no other way of getting there." 

Snape shoved his arm forward angrily. "Then make it stop burning." 

Dumbledore drew his wand and rolled back his sleeves, as if preparing for an arduous task. For all Harry knew, it could be just that. Countering the Dark Lord's summons couldn't be an easy task. 

"Wait!" Snape cried suddenly. "Will he know you're helping me stop it?" 

Dumbledore lowered his arms thoughtfully. "I honestly don't know." 

Snape closed his eyes and regulated several deep breaths. Opening them again, he said calmly, "Then don't." The Headmaster looked ready to argue, but Snape cut him off with a question. "Why's he calling me if I can't come? Merlin, until Harry told me what was happening, I didn't even know what it meant." 

Dumbledore sighed and sat down behind his desk. "There are several possibilities." Snape climbed into one of the chairs facing him, and Harry slipped into the other, feeling rather out-of-place. "The first is that he doesn't realize that you've forgotten the formalities of being summoned and that you don't know how to apperate." 

"About that. Someone will teach me soon, right?" 

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Severus. That is a skill for students far older than you. You could end up splinching yourself." 

The black eyes seemed to glow in defiant determination. "I will learn by the end of term, Headmaster. I'll teach myself if I have to. Better yet, I'll have Lucious teach me. Proof of ambition and thirst for forbidden knowledge. Old Voldemort'll like that. I'll talk to the Malfoy tomorrow about it. He's really just like Lucious all over again. Makes Hogwarts very homey and familiar and everything. Remus is even here." He smirked in Harry's direction. "Potter's a little too old, though. And, thankfully, Black seems to have gotten expelled." 

"Severus, I don't think you should be -" 

"It's MY life!" Harry stared at the boy. Snape or not, a second year should not be cutting off the Headmaster. 

"Severus," Dumbledore warned. 

Snape only glowered. "It's mine. I'm a thirty-nine year old with amnesia and a physical condition. My parents are dead and I don't even know how. I've been Marked as a bad guy. And it's all Voldemort's fault. I'm going to kill him, and if I get splinched trying, that's my problem." 

Harry could only be silently thankful that Snape had never truly wanted _him_ dead. Good side or no, that twelve year old could be downright frightening. 

Dumbledore frowned. "As Headmaster -" 

"I'm legally thirty-nine, Headmaster. You're not responsible for me, even if I am attending classes. I haven't any parents to send Howlers at you if I die. The rest of the wizarding world doesn't understand what happened to me. So I can do what I want." 

"I could expel you, Severus." Harry got the impression that was more a reminder of fact than a threat. 

Snape only smiled sweetly at him. Something Harry wouldn't have believed him capable of until he saw it. "But you don't want to force me to join Voldemort, do you? Without a place to live, where else could I go?" 

Surprisingly, Dumbledore met this blackmail with a chuckle. "Imp." 

Snape smirked. "I'm Slytherin, sir. And my arm hurts. What did you expect from me?" 

"Nothing less, Severus. Nothing less. Just. Just beware Lucious." 

"Of course, Headmaster. May I go to Madam Pomphrey and try to find a potion to help me sleep through this?" he gestured toward the Mark. 

"Of course, child. Good night." 

"Good night, Headmaster." 

Harry watched him go, feeling like he missed something. "Headmaster?" 

"Oh, Harry. Almost forgot you were there." His twinkle had returned, though it looked somewhat subdued. 

"Why did you let him get away with all that?" 

White brows lifted as if surpried by the question though he must have seen it coming. "Severus is in a very precarious position right now. As he said, his parents are dead. As it did in his fourth year, this is making him test his boundaries. But unlike his fourth year, there are other considerations to be made. I need to show that he can't get away with everything, yet I need to allow him to make his own decisions because he is, legally, thirty-nine. He also suffered a traumatic experience shortly after whatever caused him to lose his memory where, against his will, he was forced to call Voldemort his Master." 

The Headmaster's smile was sad. "Needless to say, Severus did not take kindly to that. In hindsight, I fear it was my insistance that he not reveal what happened under the Womping Willow that drove him to Voldemort the first time. His life had been threatened, and the choice to do anything about it was forcibly taken from him. And now Voldemort has made the same mistake." 

"He changed sides before," Harry felt obligated to point out. 

Dumbledore actually beamed. "Yes." 

Feeling the older man had missed the point, he claified, "How do you know he won't again?" 

"That is why I am being very careful not to overly restict his freedom. As Voldemort became more powerful, he began to exert more control over his Death Eaters. You can guess how Severus took that." 

"He switched sides." For some reason, it didn't surprise Harry that Snape left Voldemort over a contol issue rather than a moral one. Still, he felt somehow cheated and disappointed. 

"To Severus, that was a moral issue, Harry," Dumbledore told him in a gently chiding voice. Harry only stared at him. Sure, the Headmaster seemed to know everything, but, mind reading? 

The Headmaster chuckled. "You should perhaps return to your dormitory, now." 

Harry stood, nodding, but paused before stepping onto the spiral staircase. Looking back, he asked, just to be sure, "He _is_ just a twelve year old, right?" 

The Headmaster sighed. "That is a difficult question to answer, Harry. Physically, he is ten. Mentally, he is twelve. Legally and chronologically, he is thirty-nine. Magically, we don't know. If he does successfully apperate, he is at least sixteen. I shall try to remind him to check his magical development before attempting it. Preferably when the Mark is not burning and he is, therefore, more open to advice and suggestions." He looked at Harry seriously. "Severus was in a great deal of pain tonight, though he did his best to hide that from himself and us. Do not judge his temper entirely on this evening alone." 

Harry nodded slowly. That made sense. Sort of. Even if it was Snape. 

"Oh, and Harry?" 

Harry cocked his head and raised an inquiring eyebrow. 

"Watch out for him, please." It was not a warning. It was . . . exactly how Mrs. Weasley had told Percy to watch out for Ginny on her first year. Harry got the distinct impression he had just been volunteered to be _Snape_'s big brother. 

When he wished for a family in the Mirror of Eresid, this wasn't exactly what he had in mind. "Yeah, sure." 

* * *

_review please. Thanks very much to those who have.  
  
Poll: Should Snape return to his normal age, or stay a kid at the end? Once book 5 comes out this is going to be AU anyway. And I get the distinct impression, that the 'happy' ending would be, as far as Snape is concerned, staying a kid. I was originally planning to turn him back though. _


	4. Disembodied Heads

** Twelve Again **

  
  
Summary: Severus Snape returns from a DE meeting, but something is seriously wrong. He's a kid again. Takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places are not mine.   
  
  
Severus approached Lucious - no, not Lucious, Lucious's _son_ - cautiously. In some reincarnation of this life, Severus knew that he had once been this Malfoy's teacher, but since he couldn't remember it, it didn't feel real. So he approached the older boy with all the tripidation a second year normally felt upon seeking out a fifth year. "Malfoy?" he asked, showing none of it. 

The blond spun toward him. "Professor?" he asked with a hint of deference. Not much, mind you, but enough to be surprising in a Malfoy. 

That was interesting. The other life was very real to the Malfoy. That could likely be used to Severus's advantage. This one time, Severus did not insist that he be called by his first name. "Yeah, about that. Could you pass this letter on to your father for me? That fool Dumbledore's watching me like a hawk." Insulting the Headmaster had always made Lucious smile, and his son was evidently little different. 

The younger Malfoy smiled conspiratorally at him. "Sure thing, Professor." Lucious had never been so openly friendly while they were in school together. 

"Thank you," Severus said, politely nodding to the older boy as well as the Crabbe and Goyle clones flanking him. He walked away calmly, not daring to look back for fear his excitement would show. Stepping out of the Slytherin Common Room, he took a moment to lean against the wall and breath out a sigh of relief. That had been _weird_. Meetings with Lucious _never_ went so completely in his favor. There might be something to that professor thing after all. 

He forced himself to recover quickly before anyone saw him using a wall for support. He hurried to the Great Hall for breakfast, and dropped into a chair across from Malcolm Balddock at the Slytherin Table. "Hi." He saw the girl, Katryna Tragyl, whom he had talked to the night before and smiled politely in her direction. She grinned back and waved. Severus's smile became a tad more genuine as he turned away from her. 

Malcolm Baddock was looking at him as though he had just done something extraordinary. Severus turned to look behind him, just in case the look was directed at some two-headed monster that he hadn't noticed. Just the wall there, though. Facing Malcolm again, he raised an eyebrow. "What?" 

"Y-you smiled." 

A little polite smile had caused that reaction? Severus couldn't repress an incredulous stare at his year-mate."Yeah," he agreed, carefully, as if facing a small, stupid, easily-offended child with a pet rabid dog. 

"You normally don't, ya know?" 

Well, he was certainly getting that impression. "Not really," he said, shrugging. "Don't remember being old." He must've been a dour fellow if people couldn't believe he knew how to smile. Sad, really. Severus didn't think he really much cared for the impression he was getting of his older self. Though, he had to admit, the grown-up version was a spy. That was cool. 

"Really? Not at all?" Graham Pritchard, who was sitting next to Malcolm, asked. 

Resigning himself to a conversation of convincing them of his twelve years of age, Severus nodded. "Really." 

"What was that nightmare about last night?" Malcolm asked suddenly. "Bloody well scared me out of my skin when you yelled like that." 

Severus thought fast. He didn't know who in Slytherin was for the Dark Lord in this time. Besides it would be stupid to keep telling people that he was a spy. Potter . . . He probably shouldn't have told Potter, but James's son surely couldn't go Dark. The secret should be safe with him. "Damian Goyle stole my Potions homework and Professor Gray accused me of copying him, which is just stupid. Goyle couldn't write a potions essay worth more than a D even if he asked a genie for it. Then Dumbledore tried to expel me for cheating, and I was trying to explain that the essay was _mine_ when I woke up." Severus gave them both a hard look. "Don't either of you even think about stealing my homework." 

The two Slytherins exchanged looks that Severus couldn't decipher. "You're going to do homework?" Graham finally asked. 

Severus gave him an odd look. "Yeah. I'm a second year. It's my job to do homework." 

"It just seems weird that a professor needs to take second-year classes and do homework." 

Severus frowned. "I'm not a professor. I'm twelve." 

Malcolm and Graham looked at each other again. "Well, he does _dream_ about homework," Malcolm pointed out to the other boy. Graham nodded. Malcolm turned back to Severus. "Is Damian Goyle any relation to Greg Goyle in fifth year?" 

Severus shrugged, "His dad, best as I can figure. It's freaky, y'know? Looking around and seeing Goyle and Potter and Malfoy when everybody else has changed. Malfoy especially. He looks just like Lucious and is about the same age as I remember Lucious to be. Goyle and Potter were both my year." He glanced toward the teacher's table. "Lupin, too." 

"Professor Lupin?" 

Severus grinned. "He wasn't Professor Lupin back then. Just little Remus." The two Slytherins grinned back, evil delight dancing in their eyes. Severus's eye fell on the professor in question again, and he sobered. "He's not little anymore." All grown-up and with greying hair was little Remus Lupin. 

"Nasty shock waking up with everything changed, Prof - um, Severus?" Malcolm caught himself from saying 'professor' and only stumbled over the first name a little. Severus was mildly amused. 

"Rather," he agreed dryly. "It's like time travel, only every seems to expect you to know what an alternate version of yourself used to know. I thought the Headmaster was joking when he said the year. And me? A Professor? I'm surprised my older self has the patience." 

"He, er, you, er, he doesn't," Graham fumbled. "Haven't you noticed that people tread softly around you? Twelve year old or not, they're afraid you'll hand out detention at the least provocation. Specially the people in other Houses." 

Severus made a face. "That popular, was I?" 

After that bit of news, he was a little surprised to see Malcolm laugh easily at his remark. "You have no idea, Sev." 

Severus narrowed his eyes at the nickname, but did not comment. He'd put too much effort into convincing them he was their age to jeopardize it. And he wasn't going to go through the next five years of Hogwarts without any friends in his class. Assuming he didn't turn back into a grown-up, which, he got the impression, Dumbledore was trying to figure out how to do. 

* * *

His first class of 1995 was Transfigurations. It was an interesting transition. McGonagall's teaching style was exactly the same, the handwriting on the board comfortingly familiar. He even sort of remembered this particular lecture and exercise. But she was noticably older, and the class had the marked improvement of not including Sirius Black or James Potter. 

Once McGonagall had finished going over the theory and handed out the sticks to turn into salamanders, she came to Severus's table. "Severus." 

He looked up. "Professor?" 

"How much of transfiguration class do you remember?" 

Severus shrugged. "I think I'm a few lessons ahead of everyone else here. I sort of remember doing this before. Well, trying to, before Black turned his twig into a miniture fire-breathing dragon." 

Was that a hint of a grimace on her face? Perhaps the memory was as awful for her as it was for him. Possibly even more awful. Gryffindor or not, she had been the teacher in charge. Out of necessity, he was finding it easier to see things from the teacher's point of view. "Really, I think I'm good for transfig. It might have been thirty years for you, but it was last week for me." 

The memories of last week were a little more fuzzy and filled with holes than a few days should have made them, but he wasn't about to mention that. He felt naked enough missing the memories of the last twenty-seven years, nevermind letting people know that the memories he _did_ have were incomplete. 

Besides. It wasn't like anybody else could remember back then any better. 

* * *

That night, Severus stared up at the ceiling of the dormatory, half afraid to go to sleep. What if he had another nightmare? He had successfully deflected attention from it at breakfast this morning, but if he made a habit of it (which seemed decidely likely) they'd get suspicious. If that happened, he could propbably foist blame from Voldemort to the time shift thingie and all associated problems thereof. Which were ultimately Voldemort's fault, too, but that wasn't common knowledge. 

His other fear, even greater than of the nightmares, and less easily explained, was that Voldemort would try summoning him again. If he woke screaming in pain and clutching his left arm, rumours would start, and no doubt _someone_ would figure it out. This was Slytherin House, after all, and the Dark Lord had been around for some thirty-odd years now. He wasn't new and relatively unknown anymore. 

The other Second Years were sleeping soundly. The proof of this was that Graham was snoring and nobody else had done anything to stop it. Restless, Severus decided he'd take another late night walk. That way, assuming that _if_ he got summoned again, it would happen at the same time, he wouldn't be where he could be overheard. Hopefully, he wouldn't get summoned. That hurt. 

He was halfway up to the Astronomy Tower when a quiet voice called out, "Prof - er, Severus!" Perhaps he should seriously consider changing his name to Prof. Most people seemed to call him that already. He turned around, and wasn't terribly surprised to see Potter. Well, what was surprising was that it was just Potter's head floating in mid air. But this being (a) Hogwarts and (b) James's son, he wasn't especially worried about the missing parts of the older boy. 

"You only have a head," Severus pointed out. Worried, he wasn't. Disconcerted, he was. Running around headless was almost understandable, but heading around bodiless? That was less normal. 

Potter looked briefly surprised, as though it were Severus running around the school without his body, but then understanding and embarassment appeared on his face. "Oh. Invisibility cloak." He took the cloak entirely off, and the rest of him became visible again. "Sorry 'bout that." 

Severus shrugged. "I wasn't worried. That's gotta be useful." 

Potter grinned. "You bet." 

"Wonder if I can afford one. Gotta have something in Gringotts, right? I mean, I've been a teacher for who knows how long, and I was my parent's only heir before they, they um, you know. Gave me my inheritance." Wow, that sounded weak. Gotta cover. "How much do you suppose a cloak like that goes for?" 

Blast, Potter was still looking at him with pity. Fortunately, he did answer the last question rather than insisting on talking about the other stuff. That had been a mistake to bring up. He really didn't want to think about his parents in any way, shape, or form. He knew, intellectually, that they - had given up their inheritance - but he wasn't ready to _think_ about the implications of that yet. "Dunno. I got mine from my dad," Potter answered. 

Of course James would have an Invisibility cloak. "That makes a frightening amount of sense, from what I know of James. How," how to put this? "What does he do now?" Remus was a professor. Where were the rest of the people he had known? 

Potter looked stricken. An unpleasant feeling fluttered in Severus's stomach. "He's dead," Harry said shortly. 

No. James was. James is. James ever shall be. James couldn't die. James was too Gryffindor to die. Too insanely lucky. Severus shook his head. "Can't be. He's James Bloody Potter." 

Harry barked a short. bitter laugh. "All this time I thought his middle name was Harold." 

Somehow, that made him believe it. "Merlin. He was just -" well, no. He'd had Harry. He couldn't have been just a kid. "My age," he finished instead. Which was tricky bit of truth, all things considered. "How?" Then added quickly, because he knew how he himself would have responded, "If you don't mind talking about it?" 

By the look on his face, he did mind, but he answered anyway. "Voldemort killed them." 

Them? "Your mum too?" 

He nodded. 

There really wasn't much he could _say_ to that except, "I'm sorry. James was all right. For a Gryffindor." He realized he had no idea who Harry's mum was, and aside from eye colour, Harry's appearance didn't give many clues. "He was only twelve when I last remember him. Uuum. Who, ah, was, um, Mrs. Potter?" James, married. That was something to think about. Scary. 

Severus was oddly glad to see Harry smile at his discomfort. "Lily." 

"Not Lily Evans," he denied with barely a pause, which should have told him that it was, indeed, Lily Evans. He should know by now that his gut reaction was usually right. 

"Did you know her, too?" Harry asked, almost eagerly. 

"Lily was" _strange_, "nice." Frightening, really, how he was already talking about her in past tense. "No," he denied aloud. "Not Lily. Why would Vold - oh. She's mudblood, isn't she?" Severus squeezed his eyes closed, missing flash of anger in Harry's. "Lucious always went on and on about purebloods and stuff. But Lily was nice. You never remembered that kind of stuff when you were around her." 

He opened his eyes and looked at Harry again. His green eyes were just like hers, Severus noticed, now that he knew. "Took the Express with her back to Hogwarts this year. Er." Blasted time. "Whatever. She's a - was a Gryffindor, of course. Thought she was going to play a trick when she sat in my compartment. After James and Sirius, most Slytherins of my year had that impression of all Gryffindors. I had been reading, and it turned out she knew the book and the author. Talked about his stuff for the rest of the trip." 

"Who?" At Severus's confused look, Harry clarified, "Which author?" 

"Oh. Tolkien." 

"Mum liked Tolkien?" 

Severus shrugged. "Seemed to. Her favorite was Pippin." Severus considered that. "Which really makes a lot of sense, considering she ended up married to James." Harry was looking at him like he had just given him the keys to Gringotts. "You don't remember them at all, do you?" 

Harry shook his head. "I was only one." There was a brief pause in the conversation. "You really don't remember anything between your second year and now, do you?" 

Severus shrugged. "I remember waking up in the hospital wing almost two days ago. Why do you ask?" 

"Because _everyone_ knows Lily and James Potter are dead and I was only a baby when it happened." 

Everyone did? Severus cocked his head curiously. "Why's that?" 

"Because I lived, and Voldemort disappeared for ten years because of it. Got this scar to remember it by." He lifted his bangs, revealing a lightning shaped scar on his forehead. 

Severus peered at it, but shrugged, loosing interest as soon as the bangs fell back over it. It was a cool scar, as scars go, but he was more curious about, "How'd you get that?" 

Harry made a grim face. "Reflected an adava kedevra." 

Severus's eyes widened. "Really?" 

"That's what I've been told." 

"That is so cool." Harry's brows rose in surprise. "Of course, I've got it cooler. I was I spy who was caught, turned back into a kid, and forcefully made to forget the last twenty-seven years, but when asked, you can say the unique event in your life was that you lived through the killing curse and defeated Voldemort as a toddler. I mean, how many people get to say that?" 

Harry just stared at him. 

"Just you, I imagine, but correct me if I'm wrong." 

Harry shook his head. "No, you're right," he confirmed faintly. 

"See? There you go." 

"Anyone ever tell you that you were weird, Severus?" 

Severus grinned. "I'm usually not this talkative, so most folk don't realize it. Back in Hogwarts, that is, back when I remember coming from, I spent most of my time reading and doing homework. Well, except when I was tripping up James and Sirius. And that was pretty much a solitary activity, too. Unless you count Potter and Black. But really the only words exchanged were insults and hexes. It was fun." 

Harry shook his head wordlessly. "So why are you being so, um, friendly, to me?" 

Good question. Severus shrugged. "You didn't freak out last night. Um, right, about that, while we're on the subject. Thank you." 

If anything, Harry looked even more surprised by that than his assessment of the adava kedavra scar. 

"Oh, please. Not you, too." Harry blinked, so Severus expounded, "Getting bugged out by me being polite. Can't grow up the son of Drusella Snape and not get courtesy and manners pounded into you every day." 

"Then what happened to you?" Harry asked before he could stop himself. He regretted it immediately, Severus saw, but the words were out there. 

Severus shrugged. "Dunno. That's a question for the potions master, not the second year. _I'm_ still polite. Well, usually." 

"My dad being one of the exceptions?" 

Grinning, Severus shook his head. "It's perfectly valid to insult someone who insults you. James gives as good as he gets." 

A look of pain crossed Harry's face, and Severus mentally cursed himself before remembering that _he_ wasn't the one who brought James up. Then he realized that the problem was probably that he had used present tense when talking about the elder Potter. Blasted time warp that kills people while you're not looking. 

"Um," Severus shifted uncomfortably. "I guess I should go back to bed now." 

Harry nodded. "Yeah, probably." Before Severus could turn away, though, the older boy asked, "Severus?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Your welcome." 

Severus grinned. "Good night, Harry." 

"Good night, Severus." 

Severus hesitated a moment, then asked carefully, "See you tomorrow night?" 

Harry picked up his invisibility cloak, and grinned. "Right after I see you." 

That night he chased away Voldemort nightmares with a dream of a twelve year old James wearing dress robes, standing at a wedding altar with twelve year old Lily Evans. Behind them, fifteen year old Harry Potter cheered, shouting things like 'Marry her already, Dad!' and 'Say I do, Mum!' Severus wasn't terribly certain which was the more frightening to wake up to. 

* * *

_review please. Thanks very much to those who have.  
  
_


	5. Little Remus Lupin

** Twelve Again **

  
  
Summary: Severus Snape returns from a DE meeting, but something is seriously wrong. He's a kid again. Takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places are not mine.   
  
  
Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, found Severus just after lunch. "Professor!" 

Severus turned toward the taller blond, and cursed his shorter ten year old body. He had grown a good five inches during those all important two years, and he noticed it most when talking with Malfoy. Draco was a year younger than Lucious had been, and yet their difference in height was greater than it had been with the original Malfoy. Draco, of course, didn't notice. Compared to the Professor he was familiar with, Severus could have been sixteen and still been shorter and noticibly younger than he should be. Fortunately, Draco held the Potions Master in high enough regard to disregard their severe gap in age and height. 

"Malfoy?" Severus returned, feigning the adult-like aloofness his father often demonstrated. Best not to think about Atticus Snape at the moment, though. 

"Father sent this for you." Severus accepted the folded parchment with all the mature reserve he could muster. 

"Thank you." He risked only a glance at it. Opened, but an attempt had been made to reseal it. He would have expected better of Lucious Malfoy's son. The wax didn't even match colors perfectly. He frowned. Wondering how far he could take this Professor-worship thing, he turned a hard look on the older boy. 

Draco blushed, very faintly. Oh, this was sweet. "I would appreciate it if my letters were given me undisturbed next time," he said in his coldest Atticus-voice. 

The blush faded instantaneously into a blanched look of dismay. Severus internally exaulted. What a splendid power he had over the older boy. He wondered if it would work on anybody else, briefly, before deciding no one else had proven they deserved it yet. Draco was Lucious's son, and Lucious was definitely in Voldemort's ranks. Thus making them both the enemy. Thus making power plays expected, if not encouraged. Severus made a small gesture of dismissal he had seen his mother use on a House Elf once, and to his utter astonishment Draco scurried away. That kid was Lucious's? Must've inherited his mother's backbone. 

Not having class for another hour, Severus went down to the second year dormitories to read his letter is relative privacy. Sprawling out on his bed, he slid a small finger under the wax seal and began to read. 

_ Severus,  
Your predicament is known to me. Go to the Forbidden Forest when your arm burns tonight. Arrangements will be made to accomodate you.  
  
Lucious Malfoy _

Severus read it twice more. So. He was going to be summoned again. And Draco knew it. Perhaps that, rather than the Professor thing, was the cause of his fear and respect. As only a fifth year, Draco probably wasn't initiated yet. If he had, the older boy would likely have been more conspiratorial and less submissive. 

Severus looked down at the neat script that, to him, was barely recognizable as the handwriting of Lucious. His heart began to race wildly. Tonight begins his career as a spy. Tonight he proves that his self is his own. 

Severus never felt more terrified in his life. _Gotta tell Dumbledore._ He was halfway to the door when he stopped. Why did he need to tell the Headmaster? His life wasn't the old man's any more than it was Voldemorts. With his parents dea- unavailable for comment, there wasn't any adult he trusted enough for guidance for something of such magnitude. The Headmaster was all fine and good, but he wasn't, he wasn't _mum_. He wasn't just looking out for Severus. He was looking out for all of Hogwarts and all of the Wizarding World. He might try to protect the school and insist Severus not go. Or he might try to protect the world and insist that he should go. His opinion couldn't be trusted to reflect _Severus's_ best interest alone. Besides, he didn't really understand Slytherins. 

_Harry._

But he was a bloody Gryffindor, too. Surely Potter's son wasn't any better than Dumbledore. 

And yet. 

Harry wasn't James. That much was obvious by the simple fact that no jokes had been pulled on him since he woke up in the hospital wing. And the talk last night was definitely something he could never imagine sharing with James. Not to mention, Harry already knew his plans and didn't condemn them out of hand. Most Gryffindors would. James or Sirius wouldn't have understood, he was sure. Remus, maybe. The quiet, sickly boy wasn't so fast to pass judgement. 

Professor Lupin? Could Severus trust _him_? Better than Dumbledore, surely. But he was grown up now. How much had he changed? Severus tried to remember that first night at the staff table. Lupin had been one of the ones being nice, right? Well, sort of. He'd been the first to really believe he was twelve, Severus thought, and he wasn't openly laughing at him. He had DADA next, perhaps he could try to obliquely request advice from his former year-mate. And if that didn't work, there was still Harry. 

DADA went reasonably well, but it did offer him an excuse for meeting with the professor. After Lupin dismissed them, Severus turned to Graham and Malcolm to secure his alibi. "McGongall's following the same curriculum she did before, but Lupin's a new teacher. Need to talk to him about what I missed." They nodded, and filed out of the room with the rest of the class. Severus approached the front with mild trepidation. "Remus?" he asked cautiously, not really sure how to address the professor who should have been twelve. 

Remus Lupin looked surprised but did not correct the name. "What can I do for you, Severus?" 

First names. First names were good. Implied friendship. "Um." How to start. He should have planned this better. "Can we talk in private, please?" Good first step. Wouldn't want anyone barging in on this conversation. And it gave him stalling time. 

Remus led him into an office filled with books, most of which he had never seen before. Titles like "Vampirism: Truth and Myths" and "Counter Curses". Definitely a library for a DADA teacher. Well, if there was anything he needed a defence against, it was the Dark Arts. They each took chairs, Remus behind the desk, Severus in the guest's chair. Remus cast privacy charms on the door, and tilted his head encouragingly. 

Words refused to come, so he just slid back his left sleeve, then peeled off the bandage. "It's going to hurt tonight. I'm supposed to go out to the Forbidden Forest when it does." He looked at his former classmate to gauge his reaction. Horror, disgust, and revulsion were most prominant on his face, with some pity thrown in for good measure. This was a mistake. He refastened the bandage quickly, and reset his sleeve. But it was too late to pull out now. "I don't know if I should." 

"Don't." Well, Severus was left with little doubt as to Lupin's opinion on the matter. The fierceness of the word rather startled him though. 

"Why?" he asked, fighting back his nerves, and seeking reasons. This had to be a seriously considered decision. 

"Why?" repeated Professor Lupin incredulously. "Because Voldemort is not the way to go! Surely, you couldn't have expected any other response from me!" 

Severus frowned in confusion, before clarity came. "Not to follow him! To spy on him! Like I used to. The Headmaster told me about it. I told him I'd do it again. I made arrangements with Lucious so I could get to the meetings. But." _But I'm scared,_ he silently finished the thought he would never admit aloud. 

"But what?" Remus asked quietly, his face almost entirely devoid of expression. At least he didn't look ready to throw him in Azkaban anymore. 

"But what if I'm wrong? What if I can't do it? He already found me out once, and I was grown up then. What if that monster kills me? I don't want to die, Remus." 

Remus somehow got from sitting in his chair to kneeling at Severus's side in the blink of an eye. Severus let himself be pulled into a comforting hug. After a moment, his shaking and mind-numbing fears subsided enough for him to see the absurdity of the scene. He started to laugh, slowly at first then hard enough to bring tears. Eventually, that subsided, and leaving him with wet cheeks, red eyes, and unsteady breathing, periodically interrupted by a hiccup. He brushed a sleeve against his face, hoping to remedy at least one of these symptoms. 

Remus loosened the hug, and sat back far enough to get a good look at the second year. "Are you all right now?" 

Severus nodded, forcing his breathing back to normal. "It was just funny, you know. Little Remus Lupin, letting Slimy Slytherin Snape know everything was going to be all right. Sirius would've hexed us both into next week if he saw us like that." 

Remus chuckled, but it sounded forced to Severus. "Is everything going to be all right?" he asked carefully. 

Severus shrugged. "We'll know tomorrow morning, I guess." 

"You're going then?" 

Severus took another deep breath, and thought about it hard. Finally, he nodded. His determined black eyes met concerned blue-grey. "It's my life. But as long as Voldemort's alive, and that tattoo is on my arm, people won't believe that. Voldemort tried to make my decision for me, and he'll pay for that. I was just having pre-mission nerves, that's all. I have to do this. Thank you for being there." 

Adult hands squeezed his upper arms assuringly. Strange, to know they belonged to little Remus. "I always will be, Severus." 

Suddenly uncomfortable, he shrugged free. Remus let his hands fall to his sides. "Severus, I want you to remember one thing, if nothing else." 

"What?" Was this a pep talk, or did he know something about his faulty memory that Severus didn't? 

"You're not at all slimy." Having been expecting something of much heavier conesquence, Severus stood very still, trying to process the incongruious statement. 

Eventually, he floundered for a rejoinder, though he knew Remus had already won that encounter. "You're not all that little, either." 

Remus released the locking and silencing spells on the door, and gave Severus a final appraising look. "Good luck tonight, Severus," 

Severus nodded, "Thank you, sir." Well, that could have gone worse. He was halfway back to the Slytherin Common Room when he realized he hadn't asked about the DADA curriculum at all. 

* * *

Severus was barely out of the dungeons when Harry called out his name that night. Turning toward the voice, he saw the air shimmer before the cloak fell away, revealing the older boy. "The Headmaster said you were going to answer the summoning tonight," Harry began without preamble. So much for polite conversation tonight. 

"How'd he know?" Severus asked before the answer abruptly occured to him. "Remus told him, didn't he?" 

Harry's brows rose in surprise. "How'd Remus know?" 

Severus shrugged. "I told him." 

"But not the headmaster." Harry's voice held a hint of censure. 

Severus shrugged. "He found out anyway. I'd've gone to him afterwards at any rate." Pointless to spy if you didn't report what you found to anybody. 

They walked the halls in silence for a short time, each lost in their own thoughts. Harry broke the companionable silence first. "You should trust him more." 

"Dumbledore?" 

Harry nodded. 

"I do trust him. I just, he's not, I can't go to him for advice, you know. He's _Dumbledore_. Remus was just easier to talk to. He's more . . . I don't know. Less perfect or something. You gotta be strong for Dumbledore. You can just be yourself for little Remus Lupin." 

Harry looked at him oddly. "Little Remus Lupin?" 

Severus shrugged, not wanting to go into it. "Yeah." 

Silence stretched between them again. "Scared?" Harry asked suddenly. 

Severus laughed shortly. "Petrified." Now why could he admit that to Harry but not Remus? He dismissed the question as pointless. 

"When you're facing him, you just need to remeber one thing." 

"I'm not slimy." 

Harry gave him a searching look, as though trying to decided if a visit to St. Mungos was in order. "Ok, that, too," Harry agreed, dimissively, and obviously humouring him. "But also keep in mind why you're doing this. It'll help keep your focus." 

For a straight out confrontation, that was a reasonable suggestion. For a spy dangerous. "Can't let him see me angry though. Gotta seem to agree with him." 

Harry looked at him for a long moment. "Then just remember you're not slimy." 

Severus smirked. Granted, it was nice to hear Gryffindors say that, but surely there was something else more important to remember during all this. "When the call comes you'll tell Dumbledore, right?" Severus wasn't sure it that was a request or accusation. 

By the look on Harry's face, he wasn't sure either, but he nodded. "I will." 

Severus nodded, inexplicably glad. "Thank you." 

"For what?" 

Severus shrugged. "Talking to me, I guess. I'd be a basketcase, if I was waiting alone now. Tell me something I don't know." 

Sending him a sidelong glance at the abrupt demand, Harry considered his options, and eventually decided on, "Sirius Black is my godfather." 

"I don't think I _wanted_ to know that." 

Harry grinned at him. "Tell me something I don't know, fair's fair after all." 

"Um. Graham Prichard has a crush on Madam Hooch." 

Harry groaned, "I did _not_ need to know that." 

"Fair's fair. Something I don't know that I care about." 

"In my first year, Voldemort possessed one of the Hogwarts faculty and tried to curse me off my broom. You saved my life, though I thought you were the one trying to kill me at the time." 

Severus stared at him for a moment. Well, he was right on all counts about that one. He hadn't known, and it was certainly interesting. "Why?" 

Harry shrugged in embarrassment. "Seemed a reasonable conclusion at the time. You hated me, and Quirrel was just," he shrugged, "s-stut-tering old Quirrel. You can do a very good impression of a bad guy when you set your mind to it, Sev." 

"Good to know," he smirked. 

"Now. Tit for tat. Something I don't know that I care about." 

Something about Lily or James, then. Preferably something good. "I was planning to give your mother a set of wizard illustrated Lord of the Rings books for Christmas this, um, that year. Anonymously, of course." 

"Why anonymously?" 

"Deniability. I'm Slytherin. She's Gryffindor. She'd know it was me, anyway. Maybe." 

Harry grinned at him with a decidedly malicious light in his eye. It reminded Severus uncomfortably of James. "You weren't being _shy,_ were you, Sev?" 

"No!" Surely the insufferable brat wasn't suggesting that he _liked_ Lily, was he? His own mum! 

"I think -" 

But whatever nonsense it was that Potter thought, Severus didn't hear it. With a pain-filled groan he clutched at his arm and hunched over it. It was all he could do to keep from falling over. Harry was at his side instantly, offering support. "Gotta go to the Forest," he remembered through the fog of pain. 

"I'll help." 

Severus shook his head. "No. By myself." 

"You can barely stand, Sev." 

Severus forced his pain closed eyes open, and met Harry's worried green gaze. "By myself," he grated. "Don't know who might be watching." 

Harry hesistanted, then reluctantly agreed. "I'll go tell Dumbledore." 

Severus nodded, and made his way to the castle exit and then across the grounds to the forest. The pain lessened considerably the moment he passed through the invisible barrier that must have been the Apperation boundry. Then, without warning, the world jolted under him, and he was suddenly in the center of a circle of Death Eaters. Movement caught his eye, and he watched two Death Eaters step aside to allow the white skinned monstrosity to enter. 

Severus knew then that he had made a terrible mistake. 

* * *

_Thanks to all the people who've reviewed and taken part in the poll. I'm still undecided on whether to cure Seversus or not, so I'll just see where the story takes me. Though, truthfully, the story doesn't center around finding the cure at all, since Sev's not involved in that, so the story won't offer much opportunity for making my decision for me. Ah, well, we shall all see how it goes. . .   
  
Remember, a reviewed writer writes quicker._


	6. Two Words

** Twelve Again **

  
  
Summary: Severus Snape returns from a DE meeting, but something is seriously wrong. He's a kid again. Takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places are not mine.   
  
  
Severus was already on his knees. The forced apperation, or whatever it was that brought him here, had beem most disorienting, and he had falledn immediately upon arrival. The advantage of this turn of circumstance was that he didn't purposely have to kneel to the monstronsity that called itself his master. 

Instead, he lowered his head, hoping it portrayed submissions and e\respect, but only expecting it to hide his fear and disgust. Whatever Voldemort read in the action caused him to chuckle, which in turn raised the hackled on Severus's neck. It was a horribly disturbing sound. 

"My little Sssseverussss," it spoke in an awful hiss that passed itself off as a voice. 

Forcing a a racking shudder under control, Severus only said, "Master." To say anything else, to allow the angry retort that waited on his tongue, would only invite pain or death, neather of which he was eager to embrace. As he told Madam Pomphrey, he was a quick learner, and this had been last week's lesson. 

The grating chuckle repeated, followed shortly by a murmered spell he didn't recognize, and a curious thumping noise, as of somthing heavy being dropped. He stole a glance upwards to find the cause. A blood-red throne-like chair had appeared just behind Voldemort, and that white-skinned creature was lowering himself into it. By awful chance, his black gaze happened to met the eerie red orbs that substituted for eyes in that ugly face. Though every instinct told him to drop his gaze, to look away, Severus found that he could not. 

"Come here," ordered the compelling hiss, and Severus was standing and two steps on his way before he was aware of moving. He still could not look away, either. This, he decided, did not bode well for his continued independence. 

He managed to exert enough control over his own feet to stop a good three feet from the enthroned dark lord. A tight frown from bloodless lips gave him to understand that this was not satisfactory, so he took another step, then another, slightly smaller than the first. Each following step was minutely shorter, but they all brought him nearer. He was less than an arms length away when the creature finally nodded his permission to halt. It was far too close for comfort, and certainly close enough for the monster to see the beads of cold sweat on his forehead. 

A hand, cold and rough, reached up to take his chin between thumb and forefinger. Severus tried to keep the defiance out of his expression, but he guessed, by the creature's next words, that he failed. "You don't like me, do you, my child?" Voldemort sounded somehow both reproachful and amused. 

Severus had only managed to delay the shiver caused by the cold, inhuman touch, and it swept down his spine now. Unable, still, to look away, he feared the terror and horror in his eyes was all too clear for the thing in front of him. "That's not true, my lord," he denied, despite knowing the other would recognize it for the lie it was. He had tried, anyway. He wondered if Dubledore would give him posthumous points to Slytherin for the attempt. 

In a disturbing parallel to his thoughts, Voldemort hissed, "That meddling fool Dumbledore hassss no doubt tried to turn you from your desssstiny." 

_You did that all by yourself,_ Severus didn't allow himself to retort. He wasn't quite ready for death yet. He wished the moster would let go of his face. 

"I think it besssst to we keep you from hissss unwholessssome idealsss, don't you, Ssssseverussss?" 

Not go back to Hogwarts? Panic filled him. He blurted the first excuse to come to mind, "B-but classes, sir!" 

That unpleasant chuckle again. "Trussst me, dear boy, you will learn everything you need here." In his voice was the promise of far more knowledge that what was available to a second-year Hogwarts student. Enticing as the offer would have normally been, in inabilty to deny it sapped it of its appeal. At this moment in time, he would prefer Muggle Studies over Dark Arts. What a laugh James Potter would get out of that. Assuming, of course, that it didn't overturn the poor boy's view of the world and leave him shattered. Which was all to say, had James still been a living student. 

The awful red gaze narrowed dangerously. "Yesss, I believe a long ssstay with me will benefit you greatly, my Sssseverusss." 

Trapped. He had no idea where he was nor how to get back to Hogwarts even if he did. There was nowhere to run to. This possibility had never occurred to him. Death and torture, yes, but not pupilage and brainwashing. He was twelve. He was _supposed_ to be in Hogwarts. Not even the Malfoys were brought into the Death Eaters this young. Not even the older, initiated students were allowed to leave Hogwarts before graduation. 

Voldemort must have seen the the cornered rabbit look in his eyes, because he smiled cruelly. He used his thumb to push Severus's head distainfully to the side, breaking the eye contact. Finally released from the gaze, Severus closed his eyes, and lowered his head to ensure that it didn't happen again. If it happened to look like submission and defeat, well, Severus conceeded that it probably was. 

"Pitiful child, you will learn your plassse." With his eyes closed, he had no warning of the sudden, strong, tug on his arm that made him stumble forward and fall. He heard a collective gasp come from the gathered Death Eaters that he had almost forgotten were still there. But they remained a distant, unimportant detail as he realized that he hadn't collapsed onto the ground. No, he just wasn't that lucky today. 

Voldemort shifted under the sudden weight in his lap, but arms circled Severus, making escape impossible. Severus froze, not even daring to breath. Petrified. It meant 'scared stiff'. He never realized that it could be so literal. That simple fear could freeze him in place as surely as any petrifying charm. He was leaned forward, and his cheek fell against what could only be Voldemort's chest. He was surprised to hear a heartbeat. 

His position was terribly uncomfortable, but he dared not move. After a few moments, the choice was again taken from him as his back began to complain loudly about its unnatural curves. Slowly and carefully, he resettled himself on the monster's lap, huddling like the frightened child he couldn't help but admit that he was. Again, the harsh chuckle, but this time it seem it surround him. He felt himself shaking. 

That awful hand stroked through his hair in a horrible parody of a parent's comforting embrace. His shaking trebled, but instead of trying to pull away, he found himself burying his face into the monster's robes and sliding his own arms around the dark lord's waist. His mind screamed against this self-betrayal, but his subconscious needed whatever comfort offered itself. He felt Voldemort stiffen breifly in surprise. _Ha!_ he thought triumphantly, taking the small victory where he could get it. But then the laugh came again. Severus was quickly growing to hate that sound. 

"Who do you belong to now, my Ssseverussss?" It was definitely amused now. On the plus side, it didn't look like he was going to be killed in the very near future. 

"You," Severus whispered into the robes. The most terrifying thing was that he didn't think he was lying anymore. 

"Wormtail!" he felt the dark lord shift as he snapped his fingers imperiously. To his right, he heard someone squeak, and shuffle forward. "Take the boy to his rooms. Then we have business to see to." 

Severus was lifted from the dark lord's lap by the wingardium leviosa charm, and set down beside a chubby, nervous looking man who set a hand on his shoulder and apperated them both away. 

It was a dark and spartan room. One table, one unlit candle, one chair, one pot of ink, one piece of parchment, one bed, one window, one door. Breaking the one-theme, were three books, sitting atop each other on the table beside the parchment. Severus approached them and read their spines. _Essential Curses_, _A Guide to Dark Potions_, and _Dark Rituals: the Basics_. He was reaching out to touch one when a _pop_ sounded from behind him. 

Spinning around, he found that he was alone. He ran to the door, but it was locked. Pulling out his wand, which he had forgotten he'd had on him until it was in his hand, he tried the alohamora spell, but that just got absorbed. The window, too, would only open a few inches. Not nearly enough to escape. His eye fell on the ink and parchment. 

A letter. But the parchment would be missed. A blank page, from one of the books, might not be, though. He flipped through them quickly, finding what he was looking for at the back of the Rituals book. Using a severing charm, he sliced it out neatly so it wouldn't be noticed, then he split that page across the middle. He might need to send another letter, and it would be best to have paper ready for it. He slid one of the halves under his mattress, and set the other on the table. 

He unstoppered the ink, and tapped the feathered end of the quill against his lips as he considered what to say. Or even who to send it to. _Dumbledore_, he decided. He could get him out of here if anyone could. Now what to say. Something cryptic. Didn't want anyone intercepting it to know who it was from or what it was about. But Dumbledore would need to recognize it as his. Something short. Who knew if the level of ink was being monitored. Short, cryptic, to the point. Explain the problem. Details could be sent later when he understood more of what was going on. 

Something that if Voldemort found out about, he couldn't get too upset over. He didn't know how or when he'd be able to send the thing. Someone had forgotten to provide him with a convient owl. 

He looked at the door nervously. Who knew when they'd be back, either. Best think of something quickly. He dipped the quill into the ink, hoping inspiration would come. As his first stroke of luck for the day, it did. He grimaced and hastily scribbled out two words. Figure that out, Aurors, Death Eaters. Ha. Dumbledore would get it, though. He was sure of that. He put returned the quill and ink bottle to their original states and places, and blew on the two words to dry them. He folded the paper and secreted it away in a pocket of his robes. Unoriginal hiding place, but temporary. 

His eye fell to the books. _Essential Curses_. His father had the same book. He vaguely recalled some fairly useful stuff mixed in with the simply horrific. Something about birds and a lesser form of Imperious . . . Voldemort wouldn't even be upset if he found out he'd used it recently. He might be curious about _why_, but that could be explained as practicing a new spell from the books so thoughtfully left for him. (Just how long had Voldemort been planning this?) _The chirping was irritating me, Master, so I sent the annoying creature away. Would you show me how to do it to people . . ._ Away from the red eyes and given the opportunity to regroup his nerves, he realized he had handled the night's meeting all wrong. 

He knew what to do now. One couldn't expect to learn how to be a proper spy without some trial and error. He'd made his errors, found his mistakes, and, most importantly, knew how to fix them. Fortunately, he hadn't been a total Gryffindor and completely fouled up. 

He could probably even pick up some new curses and less-than-totally-legal skills in the meantime. This wasn't looking nearly as horrible as it originally appeared. It was all a matter of mind-set. 

* * *

It was lunchtime at Hogwarts, but Dumbledore, Remus, and Harry were not in the Great Hall. Instead, they sat around the Headmaster's desk looking at each other, the floor, the worried-looking past Headmasters, or the office's other knick-knacks. Everywhere except the note lying open on the desk. The note with only two words scrawled in a shaky hand that only the Headmaster recognized as Severus's. The note with only two words that any of the room's occupants would have known came from him, regardless of the handwriting. The note that with only two words proved that they should have stopped the former spy from resuming the role for which he was so obviously inexperienced now. 

Two words that made each of them feel sick and guilty. Two tiny little words that expressed so much. Capture. Defeat and despair. And maybe a silent plea for help. 

_I'm his._

"I should have stopped him," Remus said, not for the first time. "He would have listened." 

Harry wasn't so sure. He had seen the fire in the black eyes whenever he spoke of his mission. In those moments, Harry could almost see the potions master in the young face. Stubborn. Determined. Angry. 

"He made his own choice," the Headmaster said sadly. 

Harry looked up, surprised by the anger he felt by the implications of this statement. "But he made the _right_ choice this time! He was going to spy!" 

Remus narrowed his eyes at this new turn of the conversation. He turned abruptly to the Headmaster. "Do we _know_ that? He was a very good liar, as I recall." 

This was too much. Harry looked to the Headmaster to straighten out the werewolf's misconception. But the Headmaster only sighed. "He seemed genuine." 

Harry frowned. The Headmaster was supposed to _trust_ Snape. That's what he had said last year after the Tri-Wizard Tournament. And that was the mean, greasy Snape who had _voluntarily_ been marked. Severus's evil twin, as far as Harry was concerned. They weren't the same person at all. Severus was not like Snape. Not yet, anyway. "He was genuine!" Harry burst out, surprising them both. 

"Harry, you didn't know him when he was young," Remus said gently. Harry thought he knew him quite well, thank you very much. He was polite, a little scared, a little scary, but good over all. 

"A minute ago you were all but mourning his death! He trusted _you_, why can't you trust _him_?" That Severus had approached and talked to Remus at all, Harry thought, proved a lot in his favor. 

Remus looked away, not in shame for his unfounded mistrust, but in sadness. "Severus is a survivor, Harry." 

"What's that to do with anything?" 

"Everything. He adapts." Remus tapped the note as proof. 

_I'm his._ Something Harry thought Severus would never admit. The first doubts began to niggle against his belief, but he surpressed them forcefully. "Then why send the letter at all?" 

"Warning? Taunt?" 

Harry looked at the shakily written words and couldn't believe that. "Cry for help, more like." 

A clearing throat reminded them that the Headmaster was still in the room, and they both turned toward the sound. "Ah, yes, the letter," Dumbledore said as if that question was the last thing spoken. "The first question we must ask is, did Voldemort know it was being sent?" 

Remus and Harry exchanged baffled looks. 

"At a guess, I'd say no, since the message is so short and hastily written," Dumbledore continued. "It also came by an ensorcelled sparrow rather than by owl. What does that tell us?" 

What was this, a lecture? "Severus doesn't have access to owls, and didn't think Voldemort would approve of it," Harry answered, uncertainly. A plea for help fell neatly in that category. But so did a warning. "He also had at least a little alone time to find the paper, write the note, enspell a bird, and send it on its way. He's still got his wand." He realized suddenly. That didn't look good for his argument with Remus. By the frown on the DADA professor's face, he realized it, too, but wasn't any happier about it than Harry was. 

"For five letters, it is a very informative note. What else does it tell us?" 

"He's alive." That had been Harry's first relieved thought upon learning of it. Dumbledore smiled at him. 

"He's with Voldemort," Remus answered. "At least physically, possibly by allegiance as well." 

Harry gave his favorite professor a glare, though he was glad for the 'possibly's presence. "He's out of his league and needs help," he re-interpretted. 

"He's surviving." 

"He's drowning," Harry returned quickly, more to Remus than to Dumbledore. 

The Headmaster nodded slowly. "I believe you are both correct." 

Harry couldn't understand how. They were on opposite sides. 

"I believe Severus will survive as long as he needs to. However, the sooner we get him out, the better off he and the rest of the wizarding world will be. I expect a rescue sooner rather than later will grate less on his temper." 

Harry blinked, momentarily stunned out of his glare on Remus by the world's largest understatement. 

Remus huffed a startled laugh. "That's one way of putting it." 

"Where do we start?" Harry asked, glad to know a rescue was in the works. 

Dumbledore frowned, ever so slightly. "First we must locate where he is." 

"How?" Harry and Remus asked together. Remus continued, "He's with Voldemort who keeps Untracable charms around himself at all times." 

"We will start with the sparrow and any leads the Aurors have, and work from there. With luck, Severus will write again with more details." 

* * *

_Thanks for the reviews, folks!_


	7. Nott Manor

** Twelve Again  
Chapter Seven: Nott Manor **

  
  
Summary: Severus Snape returns from a DE meeting, but something is seriously wrong. He's a kid again. Takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places are not mine.   
  
  
Sun was shining in through the window, which had been opened as far as it could go. After sending the sparrow away, he had decided that keeping it up would be like hiding what he had done in plain sight. The best place, really, when dealing with Slytherins. He wouldn't put it past Voldemort be be able to know if the window had been opened then closed again. 

Severus himself was sitting at the table, well into Chapter 3 of the Dark Rituals book. Both of the others he had read parts of before, residing, as they did, in the Snape family library. Dark Rituals, however, was a new find, and he was eager to devour it. Had it come into his possession in his other life, he would have no doubt conned Evan Rosier into trying some of them with him. Unfortunately, most of the rituals seemed to require more than one participant, so he could only soak up the theory for now. 

Caught up in the complexities of a low level summoning, he only peripherally noted his door opening. 

"I see our potions master is no less the scholar at twelve than at forty," a male voice he didn't recognize stated. 

"I was thirty-nine, not forty," Severus corrected distantly, still trying to work out exactly how the summoned demonnelle was related to a real demon. 

The man behind him laughed, effectively breaking Severus's concentration. He turned around, with an annoyed sigh and rolled his eyes. "Who are you, anyway?" The man was older and more stooped than his steady and deep voice had led Severus to think. Late forties, likely, though Severus admitted his ability to judge age was less than well practiced. 

"Gideon Nott," he answered with an amused smirk. "Forgetting your friends, now, Severus?" 

Severus sneered back. No doubt a Death Eater acquaintance of his older self. "Those worth forgetting." 

"I'm wounded, Severus." Despite the teaing tone, his eyes did reflect something that Severus tentively identified as pained sadness. 

"What do you want, Gideon?" If the grown-up was going to make such extensive and familiar use of his given name, Severus could only return the favor. 

The man hardly seemed to notice. Interesting. Perhaps they'd been closer than originally supposed. Severus wasn't sure if that was indicative of his elder self's excellent spying tactics, or something more disturbing. He hadn't had any _real_ friends here, had he? Nott's light banter hadn't seemed at all forced. "Breakfast is downstairs. Come along." 

The table had places set for two, across from each other, halfway down its impressive length. Severus counted ten chairs along one side. It seemed a shame only two would dine there now. Looking impressed at the white panelled walls, arched ceiling, and regularly spaced suits of armor lining the room, Severus asked, in an awed whisper, "What is this place?" 

"Nott Manor," Gideon answered proudly. 

_Perfect,_ thought Severus smugly, but kept the emotion from his expression. Really, Nott must not have ever seen Hogwarts or Snape Manor, or he would have known this room, though rich and in good-taste, shouldn't have phased Severus, twelve years old or not. 

They sat at the arraged places, and began to eat the morning meal. Encouraged by his earlier success, Severus opened conversation, "Gideon?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Can I ask you a question?" 

Nott smiled at him wryly. "You've already asked several. Go ahead." 

"Were we good friends?" The question wasn't the one he had intended. He had meant to ask about Voldemort, where was he? When would he be back? What were his intentions, in regard to Severus? But somehow that other one slipped out. 

The configuration Nott made with his mouth could not be termed a smile. It was too sad, and perhaps too rueful. "I thought so. What you thought of me, though, we may never know." 

Severus blinked. What did he mean by that? Why wouldn't he know? Oh. "Because I was a spy." 

Nott looked surprised. "You know about that?" 

He shrugged. "Dumbledore told me when I woke up." 

"So it was true, then." He sounded like someone told him Santa wasn't real. Apparently, he hadn't truly believed it. Hadn't wanted to. 

Severus took a bite of eggs, not looking away. He was sure Nott found it disconcerting. It was only fair. He found Nott disconcerting. He wasn't supposed to have real friends in the Death Eaters. The Death Eaters were the bad guys. He chewed and swallowed. "What happened, Gideon? How am I twelve? Why am I twelve?" 

Nott looked away, eyes tracing the woodwork lining the tops of the walls. "I don't know what gave you away. We were summoned. We of the Inner Circle, all but you. Once we had arrived, and taken our places, you were called. You apperated into the center of the circle. Looked a little surprised, but you hid it quickly. You asked what was wrong. Our lord told you that you had betrayed us. 

"You denied it, of course, but our lord would hear none of it. Had Lucious take away your wand." Severus felt a cold chill slide down his back. Wandless, revealed as a spy, surrounded by enemies he had betrayed, his chances had been, well, he hadn't had a chance. By all rights, he should be dead. Nott continued, "Traitors are severely punished, you know." 

"I expect my older self knew even better," Severus answered the rhetorical non-question faintly. _Traitor_. Such an ugly word, for what he had thought a brave and noble action. But if, as it seemed was the case, he had ever truly been on the Death Eaters' side, that was exactly what he had been. His stomach twisted. No wonder his older self was so sour. Guilt if you turned, guilt if you didn't. Fortunately for Severus Take Two, _he_ didn't intend to ever be a true Death Eater. Can't betray something you never followed. 

Nott dropped his gaze back down to his guest. "I expect he did," he agreed with the palest hint of ironic humour. Mostly, though, he was just sad, as though speaking off a recently deceased friend. In a way, that was exactly what he was doing. 

"How am I twelve?" he asked again, to bring the conversation back on track. 

His eyes sought the intricate carving again. Severus thought it was a distancing mechanism, rather than proof of dishonesty. His voice resumed the narrative in a flat tone, "Lucious took your wand," he reiterated, picking up the story exactly where he left off. Severus thought he saw a slight flinch in the pause before he began to reveal new information. "There were the expected crucios, first." Severus winced. He could remember the one he'd been given that first meeting. He had passed out from pain after only a few seconds. His elder self apparantly had a much higher pain threshhold, so survive several and still be conscious. 

"You didn't scream, of course, you never do." Severus stared at him. How could anyone _not_ scream? "Can't help the writhing on the ground. I think that's part of the curse." Well, that was an interesting theory. Maybe he'd research it when he got back to Hogwarts. "So once everyone had cast theirs -" 

Severus's eyes widened, and couldn't stop the interruption, "I got a crucio from _everyone present_? How many _were_ there?" 

"The whole Inner Circle, eleven not including yourself, plus our Lord himself who cast both the first and last ones." _Thirteen. Thirteen crucios._

"And I didn't die, go insane, pass out, or even scream?" 

Nott looked back down at him in surprise. "They were only two minute bursts." _Thirteen times two, twenty six._

"I spent almost half an hour under the crutacious and was perfectly fine at the end?" 

"'Perfectly fine' isn't how I'd term it. 'Still sane and aware' is better. I've seen battered toys with their heads sewn back on that looked healthier. They, at least, don't twitch so much." Severus shuddered. Nott's eyes returned to their previous study. "You lacked the strength to stand, but you did manage to push yourself into a kneeling position, and meet Lord Voldemort's stare. That, by the way, is what convinced most of the others of your guilt, if they didn't take it at our lord's word. Voldemort just smiled and wordlessly circled you twice. You stayed perfectly still, aside from involuntary spasms caused by the crucios, looking straight ahead. He eventually came to a stop. "He said there was a potion his new potions master was developing that he wanted to test. You would be the perfect test subject. Expendable, but of use if it worked." 

"Youth potion." 

"More than that. Time reversal. Takes away memory as well as physical aging, though the drinker should retain their adult powers. Even if the potion was proven, you'd have been a prime candidate for it. You had been ours once. We would just need to be sure that whatever led you astray last time, didn't happen again." 

Severus bit his lip and hunched forward. The scents of eggs and bacon grew stronger, and made his stomach roil. He wished he hadn't taken the few bites that he had. 

"Severus?" 

He schooled his face to neutrality and looked up. Nott was looking at him in concern, which only made it that much worse. 

"You made a mistake," Severus said quietly. 

"Oh?" 

"Pomphrey said I was physically ten, but I remember turning twelve. The potion isn't properly aligned." 

Nott stared at him a long moment before he started to laugh. "Only you, Severus." He shook his head, grinning, "Eat your eggs before they congeal, kid." He set about following his own advice. As Severus forced himself the eat and not throw it back up, his mind tried to telepathically tell Nott the Death Eater's real mistake. _You went back too far. In second year, I hadn't decided. That 'making sure whatever led me astray last time not happen again' works both ways._ Dumbledore's side was doing a much better job of it. 

Or perhaps the mistake was simply _You shouldn't have sent me back to Hogwarts._

Nott, of course, couldn't hear either. 

* * *

Dumbledore studied the small sparrow picking at the seed he put at the bottom of her cage. Nothing special or identifiable about her. Just a normal wild sparrow. "_Priori Ensoceli_." 

A ghostly image of Severus appeared between the bird and Headmaster. '_Imperian Avia_ Come here.' The shade cast. The image of the sparrow arrived at his side, and the shade tied a piece of parchment to its leg. 'Bring this to Dumbledore at Hogwarts, as quick as you can. Now, go!' The shade pushed the bird out through a window opened barely wide enough to admit her. The scene evaporated. 

Aside from the knowledge that Severus knew a spell that Albus would have wished he didn't, it didn't tell him much. The window, the only piece of scenery that had shown itself, could have been found anywhere. He sighed. Placing a tracing spell on the little creature, he opened the cage door and urged her to go home. She pecked a few more seeds, then flew across the room and out the window. He watched her fly south for a short while, but knew it would be hours before she was likely to return to her original haunts, if ever. 

He was about to close the window when another oncoming bird caught his eye. A few minutes later, it had settled on his ledge, and he was untying the paper from the crow's leg. On impulse, he cast the same spell on this one as he had on the sparrow. Sure enough, Severus appeared again, casting the lesser imperious. This time, the bird couldn't fit through the window's opening, so he had some difficulty attaching his letter. When he did, he sat back on his knees. 'To Dumbledore at Hogwarts.' He glanced behind him nervously, 'Well, go, already!' he told the bird impatiently when he turned back to it, then pushed it off the ledge it was precariously balanced on. As the scene faded, the boy quickly stood, turning his back on the window, as if trying to hide it. 'Just watching the birds, Gideon.' 

Albus cast the tracing spell on the crow as well and sent it on its way. 

He closed the window, considering the implications of the name Severus had spoken. It wasn't so much the identification of Gideon Nott that worried him. It was that Severus had called him by his first name. When adult Severus had done it, that had been understandable, but it was ominous that twelve year old Severus would call an adult 'stranger' by his given name so quickly. 

Albus opened the note, and found that the page was half the size of the last one, though he had written rather more. _Nott Manor, one DE, house elves, no him, potion caused 12, trying to convert me, learning._

The headmaster took a moment to decipher each cryptic remark. Obviously, Nott Manor was his current location. One Death Eater, almost certainly Gideon Nott, and house elves were guarding him. Voldemort was not present. A potion had been used to turn him twelve. He was still on the light side, despite efforts to the contrary on the Death Eaters' part. The last word worried him. Albus feared his captors would find an all-too-eager student in Severus. Neither boy nor man had ever needed encouragement in the subjects they were likely to teach. 

The headmaster turned to his fireplace, and tossed in a half-pinch of floo powder. "Mundagus Fletcher." 

A brown-haired head appeared in the flames. "Albus?" 

"You know of Severus's predicament?" 

"I heard he's missing. Never came back from a meeting. I expect he's dead, Albus." 

Albus shook his head. "He's been seen since then, Mundagus." 

The auror's eyebrows rose. "Oh?" 

"He was back at Hogwarts for two days." 

"Was?" 

Albus sighed. "He went to another meeting, though we know beyond a doubt that Voldemort knew last time that he was a spy." 

"Is the man suicidal?" 

Albus would have laughed at the irony if it weren't so awful. "Neither suicidal, nor a man, Mundagus." 

Mundagus frowned suspiciously. "He hasn't been turned into a vampire or some such thing, has he, Albus?" 

At least things weren't that bad. "Rumour holds that has already happened long before a week ago. No, he's a boy." 

"A boy?" he repeated. 

"A boy. Twelve years old." 

Mundagus frowned in consternation, "Then what in Merlin's name was he doing going to another Death Eater meeting?" 

Albus looked away. In hindsight, it was an unforgivable mistake. At the time, it had somehow made sense. Now, though, he couldn't recall his reasoning. "Severus insisted." 

"A twelve year old. Albus, you're a school headmaster. Surely, you don't let all your students, or even your teachers, get away with walking over you like that." 

"Normally, no," Albus agreed, "but Severus was in a delicate position. He's been Marked again, this time against his will. He was furious. If I hadn't given my blessing in being a spy some indeterminate time in the future, I'm sure he would struck out on his own as vigilante. I had not expected he would find a way to attend only two days later. I was not informed that he had until after he had gone." 

"By whom?" Mundagus asked, sounding bemused. 

"Harry Potter, actually." 

Mundagus laughed. "Of course he would get himself involved somehow." 

"Anyway, Severus is at Nott Manor and needs a rescue. As of my last correspondance with him, there is only Gideon Nott and the house elves with him." 

The auror looked surprised. "Correspondance, Albus?" 

"He has been able to pass along two notes to me since his abduction." 

He shook his head, "It's not an abduction if he went willingly." 

"Just find him for me, Mundagus." 

* * *

Severus pointed his wand at the cage of mice Gideon had brought for 'practice'. The morning's lesson had been quite informative. If he hadn't known it before, he was certain now that Voldemort had very definite plans for his future. Big plans. Why else start with the Unforgivables? "_Imperio_." he cast, chosing one of the little white animals at random, and affecting an attitude of casual boredom. That would cater to and impress the high-born purebloods who tended to become Voldemort's Death Eaters. 

Weak-willed creatures, mice. Imperious was definitely overkill. But they did offer a convenient target. The victimized mouse began doing a kind of dance that no self respecting mouse would ever consider doing. Imagining the poor thing must be utterly mortified by this point, he put the furball of its misery, "_Avada Kedevara_." The green light jumped from wand to mouse and it fell over. The remaining curse he had no inclination to use unless neccessary for his role as spy. Brainless, weak-willed, and doomed to die anyway, even mice didn't deserve that pain. 

He was about to throw two killing curses to see how fast he could throw one after another, when a _Pop!_ interrupted his test. He pointed his wand at the intruder instinctively. He didn't recognize the man, and he didn't wear the robes of a Death Eater. The Headmaster's rescue party? Mustn't jump to conclusion, though. "Who are you?" 

The man frowned at him, eyeing the drawn wand with distaste. "Albus said you were but a boy, but this is ridiculous." 

The Headmaster's rescue party, or at least pretending to be. Can't relax yet. "Should I know you? You're from Hogwarts?" 

"Mundagus Fletcher. Auror." 

Truth or trick? Severus wouldn't put it past Voldemort to try and test him. Had to play this carefully. "Oh. Hang on a sec." He backed away from the man, shifting a little to the right, thus clearing the way between them, as the bed had been in the way before. He suddenly shouted, feigning fear. "GIDEON! AUROR!" He then pointed the wand just over the supposed auror's shoulder. "STUPIFY!" 

The auror looked completely taken aback as the spell crackled past him, then his brown eyes darkened in anger and threatened violence, as he advanced on Severus. Almost certainly a real auror, if the I'm-going-to-kill-you-now-and-be-danged-what-Dumbledore-thinks-of-that look was anything to go by. He briefly wondered how he knew what that kind of look looked like before he saw the door to his room open, and Nott step inside, taking in the tableau. The Death Eater raised his wand in preparation of a spell. 

Trying to head it off by casting one faster, he aimed his own wand in the same spot the Stupify had gone. "AVADA KEDEVARA!" he shouted, and the green light sped in the general direction of the auror. Nott froze, a surprised and pleased look on his face. Fletcher, his years of experience kicking in, dodged the curse, thankfully making it less obvious that Severus had not aimed to hit. Unfortunately, Severus was fairly sure the auror might not realize this fact. 

Fletcher came out of his defensive roll only a short distance from where Severus stood. For Nott's benefit, he dodged the first grab the auror made for him, and 'accidently' catching his foot on the mouse cage, he fell. The auror was upon him in a second, gripping his arm like he was an escaped convict. Knowing he was well and truly taken, he tried to pull free, so Nott would be able to honestly report that he had bravely struggled against his abduction back to the Ministry's care. 

The auror cast an apperation spell, and the room flickered and was replaced with the beautiful sight of Hogwarts. Relieved, he grinned, and relaxed. Just had to get within the apperation barriers, and he'd be safe. 

"_Expelleramus!_" His wand flew from his hand to Fletchers, and the man's grip on his arm seemed only to tighten. He was half-pushed, half-led toward the castle by an obviously very pissed auror. 

"It wasn't going to hit you!" he protested, knowing exactly what must have infuriated him. Being on the receiving end of a killing curse would seriously annoy anyone. "I was just proving to Nott that it wasn't me that tipped you off about where I was!" The auror completely ignored him, and continued frog marching him in the direction of the school. He felt like a six year old who had been caught by an angry grandmother with his hand in the cookie jar and was being dragged by his ear to face his parents for the crime. 

* * *

_Thanks for the reviews, folks!_


	8. Little Matty Groves or Me

** Twelve Again  
Chapter Eight: Little Matty Groves **

  
  
Summary: Severus Snape returns from a DE meeting, but something is seriously wrong. He's a kid again. Takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places are not mine.   
  
  
Auror Fletcher pushed him into the Headmaster's office, just a little more roughly than absolutely neccessary, in Severus's opinion. Before he could stumble more than a few steps, he was caught up in a tight embrace. He felt a rough beard against his cheek, and the joyful exclamation of "Severus!" was close enough for the hair near his left ear to lift from the out rush of air that came with the name. The old wizard shifted, holding Severus out at arms length, twinkle-less blue eyes searching him for something. A giant smile soon split his face. "You're alive!" At this observation, he was pulled once again into a suffecating hug that seemed to Severus to be rather counter-productive to keeping this aspect of himself true. 

After twelve years living with Drusella Snape, he had come to accept that cutting off a child's air supply was some sort of sign of desperately worried affection, so he stoically endured it, secretly pleased that the Headmaster cared enough to try and kill him like this. With his parents no longer . . . around, he had been somewhat worried that nobody would. 

"Headmaaa-ster," he complained, when it became increasely obvious that the man really did mean to kill him. It was the same tone he so ofter said _Muuuh-ther_ under similiar circumstances. 

"Albus," the auror growled, in a close enough approximation to his father's _Drusella_ to be funny. 

Severus started to laugh into the beard. Apparently taking the laughter for sobs, the Headmaster loosened his hold enough to allow breathing, and began rubbing his back comfortingly, "There, there, child, you're safe now." Severus instinctively slipped his own arms around the older wizard, and wasn't quite sure when the laughs turned to real crying. The headmaster's whispers continued soothingly, "You're safe, I'm here, child. It'll be all right now." 

Feeling embarrassed and like a weak little Hufflepuff, crying all over the Headmaster, Severus forced his breathing under control, and wiped away the tears. "I'm better now." He really wished his voice hadn't cracked. Where had the crying come from anyway? He had just been laughing at weird resemblance the situation had to his parents . . . Best not to think about them, really. Far better to think of Voldemort. "Headmaster, I can't ever leave Hogwarts without some kind of portkey to get back." 

"Why is that, Severus?" 

He touched his right hand to his left forearm. "The tattoo. It lets them apperate me to them. Mr. Nott told me so after breakfast this morning." 

"Snape never said he was under that kind of threat," the Auror said. Despite his apparent seperation of older and younger Severus, he still glared down at the boy. 

Severus wondered briefly if the auror hated the younger or older version more, before dismissing it as unimportant. He shrugged in answer. "It's what Mr. Nott said." 

"Mr. Nott, indeed," grumbled the auror. He glowered at the Headmaster. "Do you have any idea what you little . . . pet Death Eater did while I was there?" 

Dumbledore sighed. "Severus is not a Death Eater, Mundagus." 

"Then how do you explain him casting Avada Kedevara at me?" the auror demanded angrily, with just the smallest hint of smugness as he glared at the twelve-year-old. 

"I didn't!" Severus denied, looking at the Headmaster in alarm. "I was aiming over his shoulder! I wasn't trying to hit anybody!" 

The headmaster looked stunned, and a little sad, "You cast the killing curse, Severus?" 

"The spell, yes! But not to kill! I was distracting Mr. Nott before he could cast one and mean it!" 

"There," Fletcher all but gloated, "He admits it, Albus. Casting an Unforgivable." 

Now Severus was angry. "Oh, come on, sir. You can't tell me my older self never did as part of his spying. How is this _any_ different? It's not like I killed anybody. Or even tried to. You're just mad because I scared you." He realized belatedly that this was probably not the most diplomatic way of putting things. 

The headmaster looked like he was having a very difficult time not to laugh. The auror fumed silently. "Severus," Dumbledore said seriously, pulling himself together except for the dancing twinkle in his blue eyes. "Why did you choose that spell, aimed at Mundagus, to distract Gideon Nott with, rather than stupifying the Death Eater or something else less . . . controversial?" 

"So that when Mr. Nott tells Voldemort how I got away, I'm seen as a victim, kidnapped against my will. That way, next time he gets his hands on me, he won't kill me out of hand." There would be a next time. Of that Severus held little doubt. "Besides, I wasn't a hundred percent that Mr. Fletcher was even an auror and not some kind of test. Had to cover my tracks. That's why I called for Mr. Nott's help in the first place. His testimony was just an added bonus." 

"Albus, you can't seriously consider letting this go?" 

Severus looked at the headmaster, biting his lip nervously. He really didn't see that he did anything wrong, but Fletcher's outrage, and the almost disappointed seriousness evident in Dumbledore's expression was worrisome. The headmaster shook his head, "I don't see that I can do anything else. As Severus said, it was part of his spying, and there was no intent to injury, Mundagus." 

"And you believe the two-faced little traitor?" 

Severus flinched at the last word. He knew _he_ wasn't, but was just as aware that his older self was exactly that. Well, maybe not little. He wasn't really sure how tall he would get. If his father and his previous trend of being tallest in his class were any indicator, he doubted he would be particularly 'little' as a grown up. Which meant the auror was talking about his current self. He scowled up at the man. "I'm no traitor, sir. I picked your side and I'm still there." _No thanks to you._

"You're awful Dark for one of us, Snape." 

"Tell me you have never used Adava Kedevara, _Auror_ Fletcher, and I'll agree with you." As Severus expected him to, he only scowled fiercely. "Finding your high moral ground shaky, sir?" 

"That's enough, Severus," Dumbledore interrupted softly but firmly. Before the auror could more than open his mouth, he added, "You, too, Mundagus. I see you two get along no better now than before." 

Severus sidled up alongside the headmaster. "He hated me first," he defended himself, sounding just a little too sulky even to his own ears. 

"He tried to kill me, Albus!" 

"I did not! Headmaster!" 

The new argument was interrupted by the door opening. A head with messy black hair and wearing glasses stuck itself into the room. "Headmaster, I was - Severus!" 

Severus brightened immediately and completely forgot his fight with the auror. "Harry!" he exclaimed, throwing himself towards the older boy. 

Potter caught the smaller boy, turning the flying tackle into a bear hug. They broke apart after only a moment, in mutual embarassment. "Where have you been? I've been so worried!" 

"Nott Manor. Auror Fletcher brought me home." _Home?_ When did Hogwarts become home? Shoot! An awful realization hit him. Mother would be very disappointed. He turned to the auror. "Thank you!" He was somewhat astonished to see Fletcher staring at him gape-jawed. "What?" he checked himself for strange colorings or new appendages. He didn't really think Harry would do that to him, but he _was_ James's son. 

Harry smirked. "I think he must've know the professor, is all, Sev." 

"I'd gotten that impression, but what's that to do with him looking at me like my hair is pink?" He pulled a lock of hair forward for inspection, just in case. No, still black. That was good. He liked his hair color just as it was, though Black and Potter (James) seemed to prefer it red and gold. 

Potter (Harry) laughed. "You said 'thank you' and aren't trying to get me expelled." 

Severus frowned, utterly confused. "Why would I try to get you expelled? You're nice." 

A choking sound made him look sharply back at the auror. He looked like he was dying. "Sir?" Severus asked uncertainly, "Do you need to go to the infirmary?" 

With some obvious difficulty, the auror pulled himself together, shaking his head. "I'll live," he croaked. The Headmaster watched this exchange with a mad twinkle dancing wildly behind his half-moon specticles. 

After a few moments silence that seemed to confirm this assurance of survival, Harry asked, "So what exactly happened, Sev?" 

The headmaster became immediately sober, and even the auror looked at him attentively. His spy's report had begun. Severus took a deep breath, then started, "I was with Harry when it burned, so I told him to tell you, sir, while I went out to the forbidden forest where Lucious had told me to go." 

"Lucious?" prompted Dumbledore, raising a white eyebrow. 

Severus nodded. "After the first summoning attempt, I wrote a letter to him, and had Draco pass it along. I explained that I couldn't answer the summons because I don't remember how to Apperate. I was hoping he'd somehow give me lessons." 

Fletcher looked a bit surprised by this, but then growled, "Twelve year olds can't Apperate. Their magic isn't strong enough." 

"Mr. Nott said I should have my full adult potential, that the potion shouldn't have turned back my abilities." 

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "What did Lucious answer?" 

"Just that I should go out to the forbidden forest the next time I feel the summoning. I thought someone would meet me there and either teach me Apperation or bodily Apperate me to wherever the meeting was. Turns out, that wasn't even neccessary. I had barely stepped outside the Anti-Apperation boundry when I suddenly wasn't anywhere near Hogwarts anymore. Surprised and off-balance, I fell. When I looked up again, I noticed I was surrounded by Death Eaters, just like the first time. Voldemort was stepping into the circle." Severus shuddered. 

"I was terrified," he admitted, "I don't really remember exactly what was said. I know I fouled up. Not as badly as I could have, but I didn't handle it right. I was too mad and scared. Next time I'll block that before going." There were frowns at this indication of further spying, but Severus pressed on, not wanting to argue it right now. "Anyway, I somehow ended up sitting in his lap - he had conjured a throne at some point - and I was told that I wasn't going to be allowed back at Hogwarts because you were an unwholesome influence on my opinions." The others stared at him in horror, and Harry looked like he was going to be sick. 

Not really sure what was bothering them so much, Severus ignored their reactions, and continued, "He made me say I was his, so I did, and then he told some guy called Wormtail to take my to my room. So Wormtail brought me to Nott Manor, and left right away. I was given a bed, a desk, and three books. One of the books was on curses, so I used that to double check that I remembered a bird-controlling spell right, and then used a sparrow to get a message to Dumbledore telling him that I was still alive, and that I couldn't get home." There was that blasted H-word again. Home was supposed to be _Snape_ Manor, not Hogwarts. Now was not the time to think on it. 

"For breakfast, I ate with Mr. Nott, and he told me about how I got to be twelve. Voldemort figured out I was a spy, so I was tortured with Crutaciouses, and made to be the ginea pig of a new experimental potion that was supposed to turn back time in a person, making them both physically and mentally younger, but not magically. Mr. Nott said that I probably would have been one of the people made to take it even if it were proven, since they knew I was once loyal to them." He frowned. "But they overshot their mark, I think. Went back too far. I don't know what decided me the first time, but this time, they did everything wrong and you guys did everything right, so I'm proudly on your side now. I think they don't understand why I changed sides. I think you guys do know why I went dark. Um. Why?" 

Dumbledore sighed. "I fear it was in part my fault, and in part Sirius Black's." 

Severus tilted his head curiously. Black? He glanced at Harry and saw him fidget nervously. 

"Your father had recently -" 

"Stop!" Severus interrupted, suddenly not wanting to know. Knowing Black was involved was good enough. No more details were neccessary, really. He was doing everything in his power not to think about his parents, no need for a story involving them. "Tell me later. I have to tell you what else happened at Nott Manor." He hurried on with his own story to block out Dumbledore's. "So I told Nott that they made a mistake since I'm not the same age physically and mentally, and he started to laugh because it was apparently a very older-me thing to say, then we just ate for a little while. After breakfast, I was left alone for a little while, so I sent my other note to Dumbledore, telling him that I was at Nott Manor. I'd barely sent it when Mr. Nott came into the room to start my first lessons." 

Come to think of it, they probably didn't want to know about the lesson. Or maybe he just didn't want to tell them about it. One of the two, perhaps both. "Learned about Curses," he glossed over it. No need to mention which ones or that mice had been used for practical experimentation. "After a while, he left me to think about what I'd learned, and maybe practice a little bit. That was when Auror Fletcher came. Like I said, I don't remember ever knowing him, and he just popped into the middle of my room. Since it was the same spot Wormtail had popped to, I thought it might be a test or trick. So I called for Mr. Nott." 

"Calling him by his first name, no less" Fletcher told Dumbledore. 

"I'd found out early that calling him Gideon made him a bit more gullible. We were evidently friends of a sort. He hadn't believed I was really a spy until I accidently let it slip that you, Headmaster, had told me I used to be one. Felt kinda sorry for the guy. He looked crushed. Anyway, calling him Gideon made him forget I was just a new untested recruit and not his best friend." _Best friend? Where did _that_ insanity come from?_ "So, like I was saying, Mr. Nott came running into the room, right after I missed hitting Auror Fletcher with a stupify." 

Severus scowled at the auror, "You didn't even duck for that one, and it still missed. And that's exactly where I aimed the killing curse, too." 

"The what!" Harry exclaimed. 

Sighing dramatically, Severus looked up at the older boy. "The killing curse. The one I used next to distract Mr. Nott for throwing one of his own. Worked too. The guy jjust sort of stared at me for a minute, impressed. It was long enough for Auror Fletcher to reach me and Apperate us away. So now Mr. Nott can tell Voldemort I was kidnapped and showed no signs of being in collusion with the ministry. If you want to prevent me from going to any more meetings, and I beg that you do for a little while anyway, you're going to have to put me under visible guard, twenty-four seven, so that Draco can tell Lucious I'm being held against my will here." 

Three sets of eyes stared at him. "Gives me a clear reason to turn Dark, too, cuz obviously, I'm not going to enjoy this. No reason for them to suspect I'm a willing party to such boundries on my freedom, now is there?" He felt quite pleased with this line of reasoning. And it would get him out of seeing Voldemort until he felt better prepared for it. At the very least, he would need to know how to Apperate. 

"Severus, you do understand what you're asking, don't you?" Dumbledore asked in concern. "That the whole school knows that you have a Dark Mark? That everyone believes you wish to be at the Dark Lord's side? That you should be in Azkaban if it weren't for the crazy ideas of a loony old headmaster?" 

Oh, that did sound bad. But what choice was there? He nodded, fearing his eyes showed how scared he was, and feeling that his face was probably even paler than normal. He'd have to act all the time, even here. Acting was fun, yes, but there had to be a time to be real. "Can I be somebody else, too?" 

"Somebody else?" 

He nodded. "To be real. So people will like me some of the time. A new student, transferred from Beaubatons or something after his parents . . . got taken away, and now he's living with a guardian, maybe even someone at the school. Like maybe you, sir? Your grandson or great-nephew or something. I'll use a time turner so I can be in two places at once. And use spells or potions to change what I look like. Get re-Sorted, hopefully not to Slytherin. Please?" 

At first the headmaster just looked stunned, then he started to look more and more delighted by this idea. "Of course, child!" 

A giant grin split Severus's face and he ran into the opening arms of his . . . grandfather? "It'll be good practice, too," he said into the old wizard's shoulder. "Being two different people. Make it easier to seperate." 

Severus pulled away from the hug first, his mind racing with the possibilities. In an unconscious effort to redirect the bubbling enery, he began to pace. "So Severus Snape was found by Aurors in the home of a known Death Eater, bearing the Dark Mark himself. Headmaster Dumbledore, not willing to send a child to the Dementors or Azkaban, insists that he finish his education, and hopefully the poor, deluded boy will see the light before he graduates. To keep him out of the vile clutches of his Master and to prevent him from hurting any of his fellow classmates, he is constantly under supervision by . . . who?" His eye fell on Fletcher, and a cunningly evil glint entered his eyes. "Auror Fletcher? Would you be my guard?" 

The auror looked startled. "You _want_ me around you?" 

"Figure you'd do the best job of looking like you hate me and appearing to think I belong in Azkaban instead of wasting your time being a baby-sitter. Seeing as how that's exactly what you think." He smiled sweetly. "Since I did try to kill you, after all." 

Dumbledore laughed. "Severus, I fear you will be Sorted to Slytherin again." 

"Thank you, Headmaster. Anyway, so Auror Fletcher, whom Severus all but killed during the raid that found him in Death Eater sympathy, was assigned as his guard. Auror Fletcher will be with the little piece of scum - as he sees the boy - day in and day out, to be certain the kid doesn't try to leave the grounds or contact his Dark friends. Severus, not liking this one little bit, becomes sullen and bitter. Just how much of my older self's reputation was real and how much was cover, Headmaster? This is starting to sound familiar." 

Harry looked pole-axed by this question. Severus grinned at him, then looked questioningly at the Headmaster. He smiled sadly. "I fear the elder Severus was more real than cover, though there was some of that, too." 

Slightly disappointed, Severus resumed, his pacing speeding up, "So Severus is bitter and angry, Draco will likely try to befriend him. He'll become friends with Malfoy, in all liklihood, and complain about his tight restrictions on the few occassions when he is out of earshot of his guard. Thus Lucious will know why he isn't able to leave school grounds and attend meetings. MEANWHILE, there was a tragic Death Eater attack, or perhaps just a random accident which claimed the lives of a couple who's closest living relative is Professor Dumbledore, so he takes in the couple's orphan, who was at school in Beaxbaton's at the time, and transfers the kid to Hogwarts so he keep a closer eye on his new charge. Uuum, second-year Matthew Groves gets Sorted, is a fairly nice person, and becomes well-liked by his new classmates. With the Headmaster as a guardian, he becomes close friends with Mr. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived." He smiled beautifically at Harry and he ended his story with a grand flourish. 

Harry laughed. "Matthew Groves, huh?" 

"Call me Matty," his black eyes danced merrily. He then looked to Dumbledore, "Oh! Maybe I can even skip to third year, to add another degree of seperation between Matty and Severus. I'm sure I can keep up with the work, sir!" His hopeful look twisted to a smirk, "Then I can be a magical thirty-nine year old in a ten year old's body, with a twelve year old's mind, pretending to be a thirteen year old. It'll be fun!" 

* * *

_A/N: Matty Groves is an old folk song. Keep those wonderful reviews coming, you wonderful readers! Yes, Lyansidde, that should be sufficient._


	9. More Devious By the Day

** Twelve Again  
Chapter Nine: More Devious by the Day **

  
  
Summary: Severus Snape returns from a DE meeting, but something is seriously wrong. He's a kid again. Takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places are not mine.   
  
  
Severus Snape was escorted into the Great Hall by a closely hovering auror, eliciting stares and whispers. He glared at anyone who he caught at it. Taking a seat at the Slytherin table, he was distinctly aware of Fletcher leaning up against the wall behind him. A quick glance proved that the auror's arms were crossed and an annoyed and distasteful look was fastened on Severus. He turned to his waffles, and tried to ignore the baleful presence behind him. 

"Who's the grown-up?" Malcolm Baddock asked curiously, shooting a look full of innocent inquiry at Fletcher. 

"Auror," Severus answered shortly. 

Startled, Graham looked between the man and his new classmate. "Um. Why?" 

"'To protect the student body and prevent further dark activity,'" he quoted in a bitter voice. 

Malcolm seemed to need a have a turn to say "Um. Why?" Though he did have the additional mental faculties to add, "And where were you yesterday?" 

Severus gave him a sour smile, "Where was I, yesterday? Ah. Yes. Getting arrested. Hence the watchdog." 

Both second years pulled back. They exchanged a look and seemed to draw support from one another. Malcolm mustered his courage and asked, "Arrested doing what?" 

He decided this would be a good time to sneer up at the auror. "Nothing." 

"Young Mr. Snape is a Death Eater," Fletcher growled. "There are witnesses to his use of Unforgivables. I suggest you not associate with him." 

Severus glowered up at him, but his stomach twisted at the neccessity. He had _liked_ Malcolm and Graham. Granted, not as much as he had his own friends, like Evan Rosier, but for only a few days acquaintance, he had thought the potential for friendship was definitely there. All sign of regret he kept from his face. 

At the auror's announcement, Graham had jumped out of his chair and retreated a few steps in horror and disbelief. Malcolm gave Severus a calculating look, then turned to Fletcher. "Do we have to share a dorm with him still?" 

Severus surpressed the unexpected hurt at this rejection. _I asked for this,_ he reminded himself. _If I want to spy, I have to do this._ He transfered the glare to Malcolm. _Thank Merlin for Matty. I'd go mad if I had to live like this all day._

"The Headmaster has arranged a high security room for him, apart from the Slytherin dormitories." 

At this disclosure, Severus lowered his head, not looking at any of the Slytherins who had turned their attentions to this new piece of drama and gossip. He let himself show the shame of getting caught, and the anger at the restriction and loss of dignity. He heard the whispers start to spread, sliding both directions along the Slytherin table, and even across to the Ravenclaw table across the aisle. From there it would spread through the school. Professor Snape was a verified Death Eater. He could soon start expecting the cold shoulder or worse from every one but Malfoy and his ilk. And even they might get scared off by Fletcher. 

Graham and Malcolm relocated to another part of the table, and Severus ate in silence. The highlight of the meal was when McGonagall entered the room trailed by a small brown-haired boy with pale but freckled skin, greenish-blue eyes, and a nose somewhat smaller and straighter than his own. The pair marched down the central aisle, the Transfiguration professor carrying the Sorting Hat. 

Despite the vicious spreading rumours, this sight drew eyes and silence. By the time they had reached the front of the Hall, Dumbledore had stood up before a curious sea of attentive faces. "I would like to take this time to introduce a new third year student. Matthew Groves has been studying in Beaubaxtons for the last two years, but after an unfortunate incident, he has been given to my custudy and transferred to Hogwarts. I hope you all make him feel right at home. Matty?" 

Whispers spread up and down the Slytherin table as the boy sat on a stool, and the hat fell down over his eyes. "Dumbledore's custody?" "Say Slytherin." "Wonder what incident he means?" "Isn't he a little small for a third year?" The nearby whispers were abruptly silenced when Fletcher kicked the back of his chair, and said, altogether too loudly. "The poor kid wouldn't be here if you hadn't killed his parents." 

Severus jumped to his feet, glaring at the auror, and drawing the attention of everyone but Matty. "I did not kill his parents! I wasn't anywhere near his parents! I tried to kill you, but, obviously, I missed!" 

Shocked silence filled the room. And into this silence, the hat called out its verdict. 

So that had been why when the hat came off, everyone was looking so startled and disturbed. He had wondered about the lack of applause. Good to know it didn't have anything to do with him. Er. Well, with that him. Matty. 

* * *

Severus walked down the aisle, following McGonagall. His height had remained the same, that of ten year old Severus Snape. That had been quite tall for a ten year old. A little above average for a first year. A little below average for a second year. Definitely short for a third year. He hoped he wouldn't get beaten up. Casting a nervous look at the Slytherin table, he was a little startled to see himself glaring at his own breakfast. He knew he'd live this again later, from that point of view, but it was still weird. 

He knew he was drawing looks, so he was very careful not to give his near-future-self more than a passing glance. He took in the room, pretending it was the first time he ever saw it. Truly, it was still amazing when you thought about it, and he gave the enchanted ceiling the reverent appreciation it deserved but rarely received after first glance. It was an very impressive spell, wrought by the Founders themselves ages ago. 

As he and McGonagall reached the front, he barely listened to Dumbledore's introduction of himself as he studied the student body. He hadn't really had a chance to as Severus Snape. Then he had known he would be Slytherin, so he had understandably ignored three-quarters of the Hogwarts population. Before he got very far, though, McGonagall touched his shoulder, and he took the stool provided for this purpose. The Hat slid down over his eyes for the second time in his life. 

*_Severus Snape again, is it?_* the hat's insidious voice asked into his very thoughts. 

_No. I'm Matty Groves,_ he told it with a hint of mental irony. _Didn't you hear Professor Dumbledore?_

Severus could have sworn the hat laughed. *_Still a clever one. Getting more devious by the day, too, it seems._* 

_Please, not Slytherin._ After a moment's reflection, he added, _Nor Hufflepuff._ He still had _some_ dignity. No Snape - er, Groves - should ever go to Hufflepuff. He would not make his father spin in his - little plot of dirt by getting sorted into there. Not that the old man would like Gryffindor any better . . . which left really only one option. _Ravenclaw, please._

*_Oh, no. Not that you aren't bright, young man, but your driving force is not knowledge._* 

That came as a surprise. _It isn't?_ Evan Rosier, and even Gideon Nott had seemed to think so. He reminded the hat of all the books he had devoured. 

*_No. You seek control. Of your self, of your future._* 

Control was definitely a Slytherin trait. Drat. 

*_But Matty Groves isn't quite the same person as Severus Snape, now is he?_* the Hat asked, with enough of a nudge-nudge-wink-wink feel to it to make Severus wonder if it was Salizar himself who had enchanted the hat. No, Salizar would have been more subtle. Probably Godric then. Again the hat seemed to laugh. *_Criticizing the Gryffindor founder, are we?_* 

Severus mentally shrugged. _He always came across as the reckless hero. Most of his House do, too._

He could feel the hat's smirk. *_And what do you call being an untrained twelve-year-old spy against one of the world's darkest forces in centuries?_* 

Severus sat stunned on the stool. He'd never really looked at it in that light before. 

"GRYFFINDOR!" 

Well, at least, he was in good company. Reckless hero, indeed. Father was spinning for sure. The hat came off, and the other students were just sort of looking at him like they couldn't remember why he was sitting there. There was a small smattering of applaused from the Gryffindor table, but not like he was expecting. Feeling somewhat let down, he joined his new classmates, smiling uncertainly at Harry as he sat down. 

James's son stared at him, startled, for a few moments before recovering and smiling back. Severus could almost see him thinking 'Severus Snape is in Gryffindor?!' No wonder Harry was stunned. Severus shrugged in mild embarrassment. So much for all his anti-Gryffindor insults. 

He didn't get why everyone else was looking at him so oddly, though. They couldn't know who Matty Groves really was, could they? One way to find out really. "What's wrong?" he asked a boy who looked to be about his new age, which was to say, thirteen. 

The kid shook his head, obviously not willing to talk about whatever it was. "Nothing. Just steer clear of Snape." 

How intriguing. "Snape?" 

The other boy pointed over to the Slytherin table. "The one with the auror watching him. He used to be our potions professor, but now he seems to be a Death Eater." Wow. Rumour spread even quicker than Severus would have guessed. 

He gave a hard look at his alter ego. "Those bastards killed my - lots of people." 

"Your parents?" the boy asked sympathetically. 

Severus gave him a startled look. Dumbledore had said he would be vague about that. "It doesn't seem real," was all he said by way of confirmation. "They were just there last summer. They can't really be gone. Nobody's even actually said they were dead. Just 'they're not here anymore' or 'they can't take care of you' or" _you wouldn't have had much time left with them even in your own time or_ "'you'll be living with your great-uncle now at Hogwarts.'" Severus fought back threatening thoughts. Now was not the time. 

"Your great-uncle." Perfect distraction. He couldn't have asked for better. 

Severus couldn't hold back the smile. "Headmaster Dumbledore, of course." 

"NO WAY!" Heads turned in their direction. The other boy pointed at him, in case his housemates weren't sure about the subject of his next statement. "His great-uncle is Dumbledore!" He fumbled in his bookbag and pulled out some kind of contraption that Severus couldn't identify. Holding it in front of his face, he turned back to Severus, who was then utterly blinded by a flash of brilliant light. 

"Colin!" Harry exclaimed, half-appalled, half-laughing. 

Severus grabbed the edge of the table, waiting for the dots and splotches of color to go away, and blinking rapidly. When the fuzzy shapes that moved resolved themselves into his new housemates, he focused on the other boy, Colin, apparently. He had to look a little off to one side, so the big green blob wouldn't cover the other's face. "What was that thing?" 

"Camera. Would you autograph the picture?" 

Severus looked up at Harry, seeking help. The older boy was only barely holding back a laugh. No assistance there, he turned back to Colin. "Why?" 

"Because you're _ALBUS DUMBLEDORE's_ nephew!" 

Knowing it was a mistake even before he uttered it, he said, "He's my legal guardian, too." 

Colin was on his feet. "NO WAY!" 

"And Harry Potter's already like a big brother to me." He was going to regret this. He was _so_ going to regret this. But the _look_ on Colin's face . . . oh, it was beautiful. He could only silently beg all the fates that he had overestimated the taller boy's age and he was really in second year, not third. He hadn't paid that much attention to the Gryffindors in his true year, but he thought he might have seen Colin there. 

"NO WAY! Dennis!" 

Severus's hopes were dashed. The shorter boy who approached at this summoning was definitely Colin's little brother. Unfortunately, he was sure that it was Dennis who was in second year. "Dennis, take a picture of us." Colin thrust his camera into his brother's hands, and took up a position at Severus's right side, draping an arm around his shoulders, and smiling. Severus managed to close his eyes in time to avoid the seering pain in his eyes again. Once again he prided himself on being a quick learner. 

"Harry," Severus pleaded when his shoulders were released, and the two brothers began talking excitedly with each other. "Please tell me he is not in third year," he begged, too quietly for Colin or Dennis to hear, but loud enough for Harry and the red-headed boy and frizzy-haired girl next to him to understand. The red-head burst out laughing, and Harry and the girl looked like they were trying not to. 

"Fourth year," Harry granted his greatest wish, still smiling. 

Severus could not contain the relieved sigh. Of course. If Dennis was so small for his age, Colin most likely was, too. Fourth year. "Whew. Thank Merlin." 

"You really brought it down on yourself," Harry chided. 

Severus nodded. "I know. And what's worse is I knew it beforehand, too." 

Harry laughed. "Of course you did, S-Matty." 

"I did." 

"I believe you." 

"I did!" 

* * *

It was all Severus could do to keep the sneer in place as he watched himself be assaulted by Colin Creevy. From this vantage point, it really was funny. When the elder Creevy threw himself at Matty so Dennis could take the picture, he did release a few chuckles, though in a last ditch effort he turned them from light amusement to superiority. 

Katryna Tragyl, the third year who had first spoken to him, turned at the sound. "What's so funny, Severus?" 

He looked at her, startled. There was no animosity in her words at all. Only curiousity. He thought quickly and decided that, offered friendship, even a guilty Death Eater would take it. He was even almost certain the girl was pureblood, making it easier to justify. He pointed over at his other self. "Gryffindor antics. They've already nearly killed their new kid once." 

She laughed, completely without malice or any other negative emotion. "Oh, that's just Colin. Overly enthusiatic, but mostly harmless. My brother's in his class. Kib's got the greatest stories about him." 

"You're brother's in Gryffindor?" he asked, disbelievingly. 

She shrugged. "Get used to it. My family's all over the place. One Hufflepuff, one Ravenclaw, three Slytherins, and three Gryffindors. Well, make that four for Slytherin and Gryffindor, if you count our parents." 

"Big family." 

Laughing again, she said, "That's one way of putting it. Most people remark on the House split first, though." 

Severus shrugged, grinning just a little. "How many am I likely to run across?" 

"The twins - one Gryffindor and one Ravenclaw - are in sixth year, Kib's fourth in Gryffindor, I'm Slytherin in third. Everyone else is graduated. Not sure how many of the four of us left you'll run into, though. Probably just me." She looked over at Fletcher. "Keep running up against the Ministry, though, you might meet Jansten. He's an auror. My second-oldest brother. He was Slytherin. Oh, and my Ravenclaw brother, Clarence, absolutely adores you. Doesn't talk about anything else in his letters home. Losing you for a teacher completely crushed him. I wouldn't be too surprised if he sought you out at some point." 

"Someone actually liked my older self?" he repeated, completely stunned. This was news. 

She laughed, it seemed to be her natural state of being. How she was a Slytherin, he didn't understand. "Clarence is just bloody weird. Brilliant, but weird. Nobody tries to understand it. His passion or obsession, depending on your point of view, is potions, which is why we just accepted that you were his favorite teacher. What we couldn't fanthom was that you seemed to like him back. He's not even in Slytherin." 

"Harris laid the foundation," Severus said, then froze. What had he just said? Who in the bloody name of Merlin was Harris? 

Katryna's pale blue eyes were wide. "I thought you didn't remember anything after '68." 

"I don't. Who's Harris? That just popped out." 

"My oldest brother. Slytherin. You hated each other, or so I thought." 

Severus only shrugged, having no idea what his older self's opinion of the past student was. "Excuse me, I need to talk to Headmaster Dumbledore." He paused, just before climbing to his feet. "If you could not tell anyone about this, I'd appreciate it." 

She grinned, and drew and imaginary zipper across her mouth. "My lips are sealed." She flashed her dimples, smiling sweetly. "I'll find a way for you to pay me back." 

Oh. So that was why she was in Slytherin. 

* * *

_As always, many thanks for reviews. No, no foreshadowing meant by the name, Hikahi. It's just a perky yet dark song, and probably likely to appeal to Severus, who probably doesn't understand all of it anyway.  
  
**Story Plug:** Incidently, if you like the possibilities offered by the Tragyl family, go read their story, which takes place between Voldemort's first fall and HP&tPS. I've got seven finished chapters up on ff.net, and two more unfinished chapters on my own site. Despite the fact that it hasn't been updated in a while on this site, I do still work on that one. My chapters are just much much longer. If you like it review, because so far I've none for that story, and I am uncertain whether or not to bother continuing to upload it here._


	10. Twenty Points to Gryffindor

** Twelve Again  
Chapter Ten: Twenty Points to Gryffindor **

  
  
Summary: Severus Snape returns from a DE meeting, but something is seriously wrong. He's a kid again. Takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places are not mine.   
  
  
"Hey, Matty!" 

Severus turned toward the voice and smiled up at Harry. The older boy smiled back, but something lurked in the green eyes that suggested everything was not well. "Hi. What's up?" he asked, sounding casual. Matty had no reason to be anxious. Well, aside from his dead parents, but neither Severus nor Matty were eager to consider that too closely. 

"I got McGonagall to give me permission to give you a tour." 

"Cool," Severus tried to sound excited rather than worried. What was Harry up to? Potter's son _knew_ Severus already knew his way around. "When?" 

True amusement flickered in eyes so much like Lily's, and Severus startled. Merlin, if you looked at him right, Harry looked as much like his mother as he did his father. Severus shook off the thought and focused on the other's words. "No time like the present," Harry remarked faceteously. 

Severus flinched, still sensitive about his place in time. Harry's eyes widened in alarm and self-recrimination as he realized the effect his words had on his younger friend. "I didn't mean it like that!" 

Severus grinned weakly, "It's true, though." Then, not wanting to talk about time - past, present, or future - now, in the middle of the Gryffindor common room, he redirected the conversation. "You were saying something about a tour?" 

Harry grabbed the distraction as eagerly as Severus. "Right! The castle's larger than Beauxbatons, so Professor McGonagall thought it might help if I pointed out the best way to get to your classes." 

Severus shrugged. "Sure. but you need to show me the fun spots, too." 

"Deal," Harry grinned. 

"Harry!" Both boys turned toward the red-head who had called out. The same bushy-haired brunette from breakfast followed close beside him. The two joined them, and Harry smiled warmly. "You're going to introduce us to your 'little brother', right?" the red-head grinned. 

"yeah, I was just going to take him on a tour, want to come along?" Harry invited. 

Severus quashed a feeling of disappointment. Harry Potter was a fifth year. He had fifth year friends. Silly of him to expect the older boy to become his own best friend and drop his old ones. And yet he had hoped he would at least have Harry's undivided attention during the tour. Hadn't that been the purpose behind it, after all? 

"Matty, this is Ron," Harry introduced the red-head, "and this is Hermione." The girl. Severus gave her a shallow bow. He breifly considered kissing her hand, but decided against it. She wasn't exactly his equal, being three years his senior. 

Hermione laughed delightedly. "Isn't he sweet." Severus was glad he had forgone the kiss. She would've been more delighted by that than she was by the bow. And 'sweet' wasn't exactly what he wanted to be known for. 

Harry laughed. "You have no idea." Severus tried to stifle his own snort, but was sure his eyes must have given him away. "Hermione, Ron, this is Matty Groves." 

Severus extended a hand and shook with first Ron, then Hermione. His mother wasn't big on shaking girls' hands, but it seemed common in this time. As he did that perfunctory bit of ettiquette, he added, in regard to his name, "My father had a cruel sense of humour." He paled and his eyes widened at the inadvertant use of past tense. He wondered if his fake freckles stood out in relief against his suddenly cold and white skin. 

Hermione, bless her, was quick enough on the uptake to realized he desperately needed something else to think about. "So you're from Beauxbatons?" 

With that assistance, he was able to fight back the impending panic attack. They were coming more and more frequently lately, now that he was getting used to everything else in this time. "Yeah. I didn't speak French all that well before going there, but you learn fast if you need to." 

Hermione cocked her head curiously. "Why Beauxbatons, if you are English?" 

Severus shrugged dismissively. "Great Uncle Albus said He was stirring again, so Mum thought Beauxbatons woul be safer. Hogwarts has target written all over it, what with Great Uncle Albus and the great Harry Potter in attedance." He shot an impudent grin at Harry. 

Harry punched him in the arm, which was really a much milder retaliation that he was expecting. Severus grinned up at him. "Didn't Great Uncle Albus tell you not the beat me up?" 

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. "'Great Uncle Albus' told me not to let anybody else beat you up. He didn't say a thing about what I could or couldn't do." 

Severus snapped his fingers in the classic 'oh, darn' gesture. "Must've misheard him then. Coulda sworn he said not to let the older kids beat me up. You're an older kid." 

Ron interrupted here, with a frown. "It's not an older kid that's the biggest problem," he said darkly. 

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" 

"Did you hear what Snape said during your Sorting?" The red-head sounded outraged. 

Harry cleared his throat, uncomfortably. "That's sort of what I wanted to discuss on the tour. Let's go." 

The four filed from the room, greeting the fat lady pleasantly, as she closed behind them. "We'll start with the Astronomy tower," Harry said in a passable imitation of a tour guide. The four began the trek, quickly leaving all witnesses behind them. This corridor was notoriously deserted this time of day. No classes to bring up innocent students, and not dark enough to bring in the couples yet. 

When they reached a reasonably private stretch, namely, completely deserted, Harry looked seriously at Severus. "It's your story, Matty. We can send Ron and Hermione back if you want to keep it between us. But they can be a lot of help if you let them I wouldn't have survived my first year without them." 

Severus looked at the other two fifth years flanking him. "They won't freak out?" 

"I told the Headmaster I wouldn't let the older kids bother you. That includes Ron. Hermione won't freak out." 

Severus laughed nervously. "So Ron will?" 

"Hey! I'm right here, guys!" Ron protested. 

Harry completely ignored him. "Initially. He'll come around though. He always does." Severus noticed Hermione giving him a curious look, and Ron shooting Harry an irritated mock-glare. 

Severus sighed. "You've gone and made them suspicious now," he complained, but understood that these were Harry's best friends. He wouldn't have wanted to keep secrets from Evan Rosier, his own best friend, and he'd only known Evan for just over a year. "They can stay," he capitulated, knowing that if Harry trusted them, they were probably all right. At Harry's wide grin, he narrowed his eyes in fake distrust. "You're sure you're not in Slytherin?" 

Harry shrugged, "Sorting hat confirmed its decision in my second year." 

"Sorting hat is indecisive. Look where it put me this time around. Only thing worse would be if it put me in Hufflepuff. Can you imagine what Father would say if he knew? Me? In Gryffindor?" 

Harry grinned. "Yeah. How did the hat justify that?" 

"Said I was a reckless hero," Severus complained in his best iinjured voice. 

Harry started to laugh. "Have to admit, Sev," he wheezed, after a few moments, "it's got a point. You're worse than I am." 

Severus turned up his nose. "Should hope so, you Gryffindor." 

"Look who's talking. You need a new insult. At least trouble finds _me_ accidently." 

Severus shot him a sharp look. "Accidently? That's not what - oh. Slytherins. Right. Of course they're gonna put you in a bad light." 

"Hold on. Wait a moment. Harry. Matty." Severus jumped. _Not_ a good thing to loose track of witnesses during this kind of conversation. "What is going on?" Hermione demanded to know. 

Harry and Severus exchanged glances, fighting out who had to explain. Severus cleared his throat and looked between the two fifth years whom he barely knew. "You have to promise not to tell anyone. Only me, the Headmaster, and Auror Fletcher know about this. And Harry, of course." He looked around the abandoned corridor again, as much as a delaying tactic as to make sure they weren't being spied on. "Swear to Merlin this does not go beyond us, and you won't treat me any different that you would if you didn't know. My life depends on it." Since when had he started entrusting his life to Gryffindors anyway? 

But the two older students nodded with all seriousness due the situation, which was strangely reassuring. "Swear to Merlin," they chorused solemnly. Honestly, he'd been in Gryffindor for less than five hours, and already he was blythly trusting people with dangerous secrets that could mean his death. 

Actually, that had happened with Harry even before getting made a Gryffindor, so perhaps the Hat hadn't been so wrong after all. He sighed. "My name's not really Matty Groves," he whispered. He wasn't sure if the drop in volume was melodrama or a serious attempt to keep this confidential. "The Headmaster is no more my Great Uncle than he is Harry's." He paused breifly to study their expressions. No exclamations of disgust and disbelief yet. It was safe to continue. "I'm not even a third year. I skipped a level to add another degree of seperation. Because if anyone figures out I'm not who I say I am, I'm toast." He wondered if that last sentance could be circularly reasoned to mean his name was toast, but dismissed the thought without trying to analyze the problem. 

"And you call Gryffindors dangerously reckless," Harry mumbled. 

Severus gave him a tight smirk. "Well, they are, aren't they? I start this and look where I end up!" He gestured to his Gryffindor badge with disgust. 

"You're Slytherin," Hermione declared, her eyes narrowing in calculation. Severus waited, and wasn't disappointed when she reached her conclusion. "You're Snape." 

"Twenty points to Gryffindor," Severus drawled, "What gave it away? Harry calling me Sev or all the Gryffindor insults?" 

Ron snorted, as Harry opened his mouth to protest the accusation, then closed it in uncertainty. "Now we know that can't be right," Ron announced. At Severus's raised brows the red-head explained, "Snape would never give points _to_ Gryffindor." 

Severus shrugged. "Professor Snape, perhaps not. I wouldn't know. I never met him." 

"'His physical condition and his amnesion,'" Hermione quoted in a voice that could only be described as know-it-all, "You don't remember growing up at all, _do_ you?" 

Severus regarded her, feeling like he had just been accused of something. "I remember buying my first wand. My father considered _that_ to be giant step in growing up," he told her, somewhat more defensively than he meant to. 

"But you don't remember graduating," she more told him than asked him. 

He shook his head. "Anything after second year was lost. Well, until after the time reversal potion about a week ago. And that I wish I _didn't_ remember." 

Ron frowned. For someone who was expected to freak out, he was taking this amazingly well. "So if Matty is really Snape, then who's Snape?" 

"Me," Severus answered simply. He would have brought up the time turner, but Harry spoke before he could. 

"About that. I think you're overdoing it." 

Severus frowned. "Overdoing it? But he's a nasty Death Eater now. He's _supposed_ to be evil." 

"But he wasn't two days ago," Harry pointed out. "The change was too quick." 

Severus bit his lip and considered this bit of criticism on his portrayal of Severus. "He was _acting_ two days ago. Now he's been discovered, and is bitter and angry about it," Severus rationalized, though he silently admitted to himself that Harry probably did have a point. "It's not even totally fake," he added, truthfully, bringing in the mitigating factors, not only for Harry's review but for his own. "Fletcher is annoying. He really and truly hates me. I just don't understand it." 

"Maybe because you tried to kill him?" Harry suggested carefully, then added quickly, "By your own admission at breakfast today." 

Severus bit back a retort, then frowned. "Okay. Point granted. _That_ was over the top. I shouldn't have said that straight out in front of so many witnesses. Severus is supposed to be evil now, not stupid." 

You tried to kill an Auror?" Hermione asked incredulously. 

"No!" Severus denied, offended, "I was stopping Nott from killing him! He is taking this entirely out of context!" 

"Taking _what_, exactly, out of context?" Ron asked, sounded rather like he didn't particularly want to know the answer. 

"The Avada Kedavra I threw over his shoulder." Both fifth-years stopped and stared at him, falling behind as he and Harry kept walking. 

Harry and Severus waited for them to catch up. "No second year should be capable of casting the killing curse," Hermione stated, recovering first. 

Severus shrugged. "Nott said I'm still an adult in magical ability. I've noticed homework is a lot easier, too. Though I don't know if that's because I half-remember it still or what." 

"You shouldn't know _how_ to cast that, nevermind _want_ to," Ron put in his very Gryffindor-ish two cents on the subject. 

He shrugged again. "They taught me. I learned. I'm not stupid. And you never know when any kind of information might come in useful or even necessary." 

Harry smirked, and remarked disbelievingly, "And the Hat still put you in Gryffindor." 

"Thats as Ravenclaw as it is Slytherin," Severus pointed out, not really feeling like defending the Hat's decision. Not that he thought the Hat had much in the way of defence anyway. "Which is where I was _trying_ to get into." Oh, why not be devil's advocate? "Best I can figure on the Gryffindor thing is that my Matty persona isn't going to need to worry about that kind of thing. _Matty_ is a Gryffindor. _Severus_ is a Slytherin." Another uneasy thought occurred to him, and he tacked it onto the end of his explanation just because it seemed to fit there nicely. "And I'm going to have a split personality by the end of the term." 

Ron snorted, obviously taking his honest concern for the joke he had passed it off as. "Just so long as the evil half sticks aroud Slytherin." 

Severus returned the laugh, wondering why this felt as much like acting as being Severus did. He glanced at Harry and said light-heartedly, "I thought you said he would freak." 

"Maybe if you show him your arm," the older boy suggested helpfully. 

Severus gave a real laugh at that, that it was from surprise rather than humour didn't change that it was genuine. "_I'll_ freak right along with him, then." 

"What is on your arm?" Hermione asked curiously. 

_In for a pence in for a pound._ Severus slid back his sleeve just enough to reveal the tattoo. Even with the glamour on his appearance, it wouldn't go away. The two fifth years gasped in horror and revulsion as they saw the skull and snake. Severus quickly covered it up again. "That's why I need to kill Voldemort," he said, his voice cold and flat. "I won't be mine until he's gone." Then his expression and tone did a complete one-eighty, and he smiled cheerfully at the older students, pushing down deep the anger, fear, and chilled determination that had no place in Matty's world. "But that's Severus's problem, not mine. Just how far is it to the Astronomy Tower, anyway, Harry? We've been walking for _ages_." 

* * *

_A/N: As always, reviews are appreciated. Sorry for the long delay in a new posting, but it's end of semester crunch time and all the time spent writing the first nine parts rather than working on my homework and projects has caught up to me._


	11. All the More Reason

** Twelve Again  
Chapter Eleven: All the More Reason **

  
  
Summary: Severus Snape returns from a DE meeting, but something is seriously wrong. He's a kid again. Takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: For the eleventh time, Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places are not mine. Obviously.   
  
  
Severus scowled as Katryna Tragyl plopped down in the seat across from him at the Slytherin table of the Great Hall. He put down his quill, across his essay as if he thought she, a third year, would try to copy his second-year charms homework. "Hi," she greeted him cheerfully, taking no notice of his expresssion or action. "I've figured out how you're going to pay me back for my silence." 

_Oh, joy,_ he thought, then decided that was a reasonably Severus thing to say, so he repeated it out loud. 

Katryna only smiled. "I've decided I'm going to be a psychologist. You will be my first patient." 

Severus stared at her, and he was sure he heard someone, probably Fletcher, laughing. "And you are how old?" 

"Thirteen," she told him, as if he should already know that. Having already been told she was in third-year, that was a fairly reasonable guess. 

"And how long have you had this ambition?" he asked her, ignoring her tone. 

"Well, since just after our last conversation, and I started looking up 'repressed memories' in the library. I think hypnosis would do you good. I already sent Valr an owl, asking him to send me some muggle books about it, since they do that kind of thing more often." 

"Valr's another of your brothers?" Severus guessed, trying not to hear Fletcher's continuing chuckles. 

Katryna leaned forward. "Did you just remember that?" she asked eagerly. 

He gave her his best glower. "No. That was a logical deduction." 

She sat back, looking visibly disappointed. "Oh." 

"Why do you care if I get my memory back or not?" he asked suddenly, black eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

The girl shrugged, looking suddenly aloof. He was abruptly forced to notice that she looked remarkably like a Malfoy with her perfect white-blond hair, and slightly too narrow nose. Especially with that feature turned up in the air like that. "Oh, I don't really. It would just be an interesting challenge to get them back, wouldn't it?" 

Severus made a sound at the back of his throat that might pass for a laugh. "Did anyone ever tell you that you look just like Malfoy" Lucius, Draco, it didn't matter which she thought he meant, they were disturbingly similiar anyway, "when you do that?" 

She didn't look terribly offended. "He's a second cousin on my father's side. I always thought the twins looked more like the Weasleys than I do a Malfoy, though. My grandmother is Draco's father's father's sister." She sounded like this bit of geneology was something she had repeated on more than one occassion. 

"Lucius's aunt?" Severus simplified. 

She grinned, "Well, yeah. If you want to be so vague about it. That doesn't even neccessarily prove blood relation." She frowned and narrowed her pale blue eyes in mock suspicion. "You're not sidetracking me that easily, Severus." 

He wondered what deity he had severely irritated in a past life (or possibly this one during the time that he couldn't remember) that he was now being punished by a Malfoy decendant with a muggle psychology fascination and a complete lack of fear of him. "You do realize I am a Death Eater, right?" he asked, just to make sure she knew that he was supposed to be dangerous and not a fun project to play mind-doctor with. 

She shrugged. "All the more reason for you to need a psychologist," she pointed out reasonably. "Let's see. Amensia," she ticked off one of her fingers, "Stress and shock of seemingly being transported in time," another finger joined the first, "anti-social and violent behaviour," a third, "and, finally, grief about the loss of your parents," she finshed, add a last finger with a flourish. "You need serious help, Severus." 

"What do you know about my parents?" he asked, more incredulous and stunned by the last item than upset or offended. 

"I sent a letter to my grandmother, you know, the Malfoy one, and she wrote back saying that _your_ parents died when you were in fourth year, which is somewhat after you last memory, so you _are_ suffering their loss now." She sounded remarkably like Hermione when she said that. 

Severus stared at her. "And how would your grandmother know?" 

"Because," she started, then looked up at Fletcher, who was watching this exchange in amused interest. She leaned across the table, trying not to crumple the papers and books arrayed in front of him, and whispered in his ear, barely loud enough for even him to make out. "Because she, unlike my hopeless imprisoned grandfather, actually _is_ a Death Eater." After this announcement, she resumed her seat and looked at him with a raised blond eyebrow. Aloud, for Fletcher's benefit, Severus assumed because it certainly didn't make any sense to him, she added, "And he told her so." Severus was suddenly very uncertain about Miss Katryna Tragyl's true loyalties. 

She had, after all, made most of her efforts of friendship _after_ he had openly admitted to being a Death Eater. Like her grandmother. Who was obviously still free and unsuspected. Severus's head hurt. He wasn't supposed to be doing his spying _here_. Nobody in their right minds was supposed to even approach him. Those wanting an in with Voldemort were supposed to be scared away by Fletcher, and everyone else was supposed to be scared away by him. And he didn't know which of them was failing to do their job of keeping Katryna away. 

An uncomfortable silence spread between them until Katryna smiled brightly. "I expect you to have your first appointment tomorrow. We can meet in the potions room right after dinner." She looked up at Fletcher. "You won't be allowed inside of course. This is strictly confidential, and I wouldn't want him to feel like he wasn't comfortable or that he risked having his words repeated." 

Severus stole a look at the auror. He was looking decidedly less amused now. "That is impossible, Miss Tragyl." 

Katryna gave him a small frown. "Is it that you can't let him out of your sight, or the not being able to hear what he says that bothers you? Because my brother Valr, he's training to be a lawyer, and he's learned a few cool spells about cones of silence, so we could have our private interview, and you could still be in the same room, if that makes you feel better." She paused a moment, considering her own compromise, then added, "We'll need to reschedule, of course. I won't be able to get an owl back from him before tomorrow, since he uses muggle mail to get his messages." 

Fletcher frowned, obviously not liking this at all, which made Severus open up to it, just a little. If nothing else, it would give him a chance to talk, as Severus, without being eavesdropped on for a short period of time, and maybe, just maybe, he could get some new intelligence for Dumbledore without even leaving the school. He decided to help her convince Fletcher to go for it. "No way. I am not going to sit through a conversation and let you analyze me. You don't even know what you're doing." 

"I have read some very good books on the subject," Katryna defended herself. 

Severus rolled his eyes. "It's still stupid." 

Then Katryna said the magical words. Or non-magical words. "But the muggles have been practicing this for decades. It really works." Obviously, to Fletcher, using muggle means precludes a person from being a Voldemort sympathizer. 

"It couldn't hurt," Fletcher drawled. "Your mind's already messed up, after all. Very well, Miss Tragyl. The potions classroom, three days from now, after dinner then?" 

She smiled beautifically up at him. "Thank you so much, Auror Fletcher. Within no time, he'll have his memory back, and then he'll realize that You-Know-Who isn't all he's cracked up to be. Then with all his great skills in potions he can turn himself normal again." She turned a hard look back to Severus, "You do know that you switched back to the Light side, don't you?" And for just a second, he wondered if the accusing look in her eyes was because he didn't remember or because he was a traitor. 

* * *

Severus sat up abruptly in the Gryffindor dormitory, gasping in pain, his eyes wide in the dark. He clutched his arm to his chest, and was very glad he hadn't screamed out. His sleeping classmates might have attributed it to a nightmare, but they would've wanted to know what was wrong with his arm. Harry, Ron, and Hermione aside, he really did not need any Gryffindors knowing the answer to that question. 

He climbed slowly out of his bed, mindful of the hideous squeaking it had let out when he got in. Tomorrow he was definitely going to need to go down to the kitchens to let the house elves hear his complaints. For now, he just made his way down to the common room. He was pleased to see Harry already there. "Don't you ever sleep?" he asked, once he was standing directly behind the oblivious older boy. Harry startled, jerking away from the flames he had been contemplating. 

"Don't you?" Harry retorted, turning around, but his expression quickly sobered as he saw the way Severus was cradling his arm. "Another summoning?" 

Severus shrugged, not really sure. "It's more like a low boil instead of a raging blaze like it was the last two times. I didn't even scream when it woke me up. I don't know what it means." Harry made a wide gesture, signalling his equal ignorance. Severus flopped onto the sofa beside his friend. "This is supposed to be Severus's problem. I'm Matty right now. _I'm_ supposed to be able to sleep a night through," he complained. Not bitterly, exactly, but close. "Tomorrow I have third year classes, which will be hard enough without being exhausted. Plus, Katryna will be in them." 

"Katryna?" Harry asked archly, with a hint of something Severus couldn't identify. "Is she pretty?" 

Severus gave him an are-you-crazy sort of look. "She's Draco Malfoy's second cousin. Looks like him, too, but -" he waved his hand vaguely, "more girly. What do you care if she's pretty or not?" 

Harry shrugged, and Severus could swear the older boy was looking smug or something. "Just as your big brother, sort of, I thought you might want to tell me about this girl you like." 

"I do not like her!" Severus exclaimed, keeping his voice down at the last second. "She's a _suspect_!" 

Harry frowned, all hints of teasing lost in his confusion. "A suspect? Of what?" 

"Being a Dark Witch," Severus whispered. "Her grandmum is a Death Eater, she said. And she's being real friendly to Severus. Something's not right with that girl." 

Harry gave him a considering look. "She's nice to Severus?" he repeated. 

Severus nodded, barely noticing that he was talking about himself in the third person. "It's weird. He's been really mean to her, too. Of course, she fancies herself a psychologist and wants to save him from himself or some such nonsense. She wants to talk about his _parents_." 

Harry took his time answering. "Why does she want to do that?" 

"Because they died when Professor Snape was in fourth year," Severus whispered. 

"Oh," Harry said. Then he apparently felt the need to say it again. "Oh." 

"For some reason," Severus continued, annoyed at the girl's pushing herself into business that was not her own, "she thinks that, with everything else going on, Severus hasn't dealt with that yet." 

Very, very carefully, as if expecting something to break, Harry asked, "Have you?" 

Severus startled, and looked up at him with only sort-of pretend scared eyes. "My parents just died in a Death Eater attack, and then I had to change schools before even seeing the bodies. Of course not. You don't think Katryna will try to talk to _me_, too, do you?" 

"Severus?" Harry sounded very worried now. 

"What?" 

"Are you all right?" 

Severus shook his head. "My arm hurts." But that wasn't what Harry meant, and they both knew it. 

"You weren't kidding this afternoon, were you?" 

Severus stared into the fire that had so captivated Harry before his arrival. When he began to speak quietly, Harry had to lean closer to hear him. Severus himself wasn't sure if he was talking to Harry or just thinking out loud. "I still know I'm Severus, if that's what you're worried about. I still know Matty's just a figment of our collective imaginations. I know my parents are dead, and have been for years." _There, Katryna, I said it. See? I _have_ dealt with it._ "I know the act of Severus isn't the real Severus. I know I'm a Slytherin. The hat would have put me there again in an instant, if it hadn't realized that doing so would probably kill me. I know I'm only twelve, but that I'm acting a lot older than that. I know I'm scared to death." 

"Of what?" Harry asked, equally quietly, after a few moments silence between them. 

Severus just shrugged. Listing the myraid of things he was afraid of would guarantee that he would never find sleep tonight. 

Harry touched his shoulder softly, careful not to jar his burning arm. "Sometimes talking about it helps." 

"Sometimes it just makes you scareder," Severus replied, eyes never leaving the flames. 

"You're not alone, Sev. You do know that, too, right?" 

Severus remained silent. 

Harry sighed. "Well, you're not. You've got me, and Ron, and Hermione, and Uncle Albus here for you all the time. Matty might be a polite fiction, but his adoption papers were real enough. And the three of us are your big brothers and sister. Even if that's not official." 

Severus glanced aside at him, and smirked. "What about Fred and George?" 

"What about them?" Harry asked, looking a little happier now that his 'little brother' wasn't looking so depressed. 

Confusion suddenly took hold, as it occured to him that he had no idea why that had struck him as funny. Feeling more than a little embarrassed and lost, he asked, "Um. Who are they?" 

Harry frowned. "Fred and George?" 

"Yeah." 

"Ron's brothers." 

"Oh." Well, that would be why he had brought them up then, wouldn't it. Katryna, of course, would be having a field day at the moment, but Harry didn't know about the snatch of memory he'd gotten about her brother. "Are they my big brothers, too?" 

Harry grinned. "Sure. And Charlie, Bill, Percy and Ginny, too, while we're at it. You'll need to come visit the Burrow sometime." Then his smile turned wicked. "And you'll just _need_ to try some of the sweets Fred and George make up." 

Severus did _not_ trust that smile. Not at all. Way too much like James's. And his nebulous, instinctive feelings towards the names 'Fred and George' told him he should never ever ever put anything into his mouth that they had touched first. Not if he didn't want to turn into a canary. 

Harry looked at him sharply. "What?" 

Severus lifted his dark eyebrows innocently. "I didn't say anything." 

"No, you said 'Canary,' I heard you." He sounded disappointed. "I suppose the Slytherins already spread rumours about the canary creams to you then." 

"About what?" he asked blankly. 

Harry smiled that disturbing James smile again. "Well if you haven't then, I'm not going to share the secret yet." 

Severus narrowed his eyes, "You're not considering pranking me, _Potter_, are you?" 

Harry grinned, "Well, gee, _Snape_, I can't imagine why you would think so." 

Well, that confirmed it right there. But why the warning? James never gave him a warning. 

"Sev, it's between friends and near-brothers. I'm trying to make you laugh, not freak you out," Harry said, drawing Severus's attention back to him. All likeness of James had fled the older boy's expression, replaced by concern. 

Severus forced a smile, but couldn't disband the wariness. "Not used to that kind of prank from Potters." 

Harry blinked. "Oh. Sorry. I'll put you in the Hermione category, then." 

"The Hermione category?" Severus repeated, entirely confused again. 

Harry grinned, though it was more subdued than it had been. "The has-no-sense-of-humour-when-she-gets-turned-into-a-canary category." 

At that, Severus did laugh. "I suppose you found that out the hard way?" 

Harry's grin broadened, "Fortunately, no. The twins made that mistake first." 

"Fred and George," Severus said, by way of clarification. Neither Harry nor his finicky memory had explicitly stated yet that Fred and George were twins, but it made sense. 

"Yeah." They sat in silence for a few more moments. "Does your arm still hurt?" 

Severus shrugged. "Not as bad. I can probably sleep through it now. I don't think it was a summoning, though, what it was, I can't guess." 

"Then you should probably try to sleep." 

Severus nodded. He was halfway to the stairs before he turned back. "You should, too, Harry." 

The older boy nodded. "I will soon." 

Severus hesitated a long moment, before asking, "You're not just up in case I need to talk, are you?" 

It took a moment, but Harry did eventually shake his head. 

Severus considered sitting next to his friend and letting him tell of his troubles, but decided one heart-to-heart was enough for one night. Still, he took a step closer, and asked, "Why, then?" 

Harry gave him a smile. "Go to sleep, Severus." 

"Ok, but tomorrow, we talk about you for a change," he promised, then darted up the stairs before Harry could argue. 

* * *

_A/N: Many thanks to reviewers!_


	12. My Head Hurts

** Twelve Again  
Chapter Twelve: My Head Hurts **

  
  
Summary: Severus Snape returns from a DE meeting, but something is seriously wrong. He's a kid again. Takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places are still not mine.   
  
  
"Okay," Harry finally agreed, throwing up his hands in defeat. "But only if you promise that you won't tell Ron and Hermione." They were sitting in the Gryffindor common room once again, facing the fire. It was quickly becoming one of Severus's favorite places in the castle. 

"Cross my heart, hope to die," Severus solemnly swore, providing the appropriate hand gestures to the vow. 

Harry gave him a sidelong glance, as though suspecting he was being made fun of, but at Severus's serious expression and listening pose, the older boy turned back toward the fire. It was a convient place to put your eyes when you didn't want them meeting somebody else's, Severus had found the night before. "So why aren't you sleeping?" Severus prompted again, feeling like an annoying three year old who won't shut up. By the look Harry shot him, his opinion of Severus wasn't much higher at the moment. 

"I said I'd tell, didn't I? Gimme a minute." 

Severus decided replying would be counter-productive, and so just waited quietly instead. Finally, Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which did absolutely nothing to tame it. More likely, such a habit had contributed to its messy state. "How much do you know about what happened at the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Sev?" 

"Voldemort came back to life. You were involved somehow. The rumours I heard weren't very clear on details." 

"That covers two of the three biggies, anyway," Harry said, and fell silent for a long time again. Severus was considering how to prompt him without annoying him again, when he added, "Cedric died. That's the other biggie." 

"Oh." Severus fell silent. He had no idea who Cedric was, but he did know that this was way bigger than what he could fix. "Talking sometimes helps," he said, not really believing the words himself. 

Harry gave him a twisted smirk. "Sometimes it just makes you scareder," he returned, his green eyes dancing in brief humour, that faded quickly. 

"You're scared?" Severus asked, genuinely surprised. "But you're a Gryffindor." 

The scowl Harry gave him for that would have impressed even Severus's _father_. "The only stupider thing you could have said is 'but you're Harry Potter.'" 

Severus wisely remained silent. 

"Bravery isn't the same thing as idiocy, you know." 

Severus considered pointing out that among Slytherins, the two were synonomous, but decided that would be, well, idiotic. 

Though, evidently, Harry felt Severus wasn't grasping the concept, because he continued, "You were scared when went to answer Voldemort's call, right?" 

Severus nodded. "Absolutely. Terrified." 

"But you still went." 

He nodded again, more slowly this time. "Yes." 

"Does that make you brave or stupid?" 

"I'd've been stupid if I _wasn't_ scared. But I had to go." 

Harry nodded. "That's bravery. Doing something you have to do, even though you're scared to death." 

"Oh." That gave the concepts of honor, bravery, and courage a whole lot more sense than he had ever given them credit for before. He'd always associated them with recklessness. "That, I get. Now." 

The older boy have him a hesitant smile. "See? You are a Gryffindor." 

Severus made a face, but the distaste of being called that long-hated word was completely gone. 

They fell into another silence, which Severus eventually broke, "So what are you afraid of?" 

"That Voldemort will kill somebody else, and I won't be able to stop him again." 

Severus frowned. "That shouldn't be _your_ job. You're just fifteen. You've already done lots more than most grown-up wizards." 

Harry didn't seem to hear him. "Cedric was right there, you know. Next to me. Then Voldemort killed him, and I just stood there." 

"Wasn't anything you could do to stop a killing curse," Severus pointed out, certain of his facts in this matter. "Short of throwing yourself in the way." 

"I should have done that, then," Harry said, staring glumly into the flames. 

_This is bad._ Severus touched his arm, just below the shoulder. "But then you'd be dead, Harry. And how would Cedric feel about that? He'd think it was _his_ fault you were dead, if he lived that long, and then where would we be?" Harry just continued to stare into the fire. Severus could only hope he had heard and would think about it. "And if you were dead, who would I talk to in the middle of the night? Harry, I'm being completely and totally honest here, so don't tell anyone about it, ok?" Harry's lips twitched. Good. He was listening, then. "I don't want you to die." 

"Thanks, Sev," he said quietly. 

Severus shrugged. That was way too much sentimentality for one night. Time and past time to lighten the mood. "After all, who would stop people from turning me into a canary if you weren't around?" 

At that, Harry did look at him with raised brows. "Stop people? All I promised was that _I_ wouldn't." 

"Meanie." 

"Scamp." 

"Gryffindor." 

"Slytherin." 

"Jerk." 

"Professor Snape." 

Pause. "Guess you win that round, huh?" 

* * *

Severus-Matty had the misfortune of arriving at the doors to the Great Hall at the same time as Severus-Severus the next morning. Being Take One, he didn't realize it at first, but was roughly forced to acknowledge his mistake when Severus-Severus grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him against the wall, hard enough to leave him gasping. Ron jumped immediately to his defense, and Severus-Matty winced as Severus-Severus took a right hook right to the face, and blood began to dribble from his nose. Still, appearances had to be kept up. "Thanks, Ron!" he exclaimed breathlessly and Auror Fletcher took custody of Severus-Severus and marched him toward the teachers table, without giving Ron so much as a reprimand for brawling in the hall. 

Harry and Hermione stared after Severus-Severus, then turned to Severus-Matty. "What was that all about?" Harry asked, looking as dumbfounded as he sounded. 

"No idea," Severus-Matty answered honestly, still feeling, and -no doubt- looking, shaken. "He just slammed me up against the wall." Then, because he was supposed to be new, and the audience was getting larger by the moment, "Who _was_ that creep?" 

"Severus Snape," Harry growled, glaring toward the perpetrator and sounding impressively like he hated Severus-Severus. 

"What's _his_ problem?" Severus pulled an obviously-fake-anger-to-hide-embarrassment-and-fear type of tone and expression for the question. He was finding it surprisingly fun to play the victim. James had been pretty good at it, too, though Remus had definitely taken the cake in that skill. Peter wasn't half bad either. 

Sure enough, he was getting the whole treatment such an act normally garnered. Concerned looks, offers to carry his bag to the table, more than a few hands to help him up, and an instant set of friends and defenders. The story would no doubt spread and grow in the retelling, until the whole of Gryffindor tower would be ready to look out for him. Several people tried to answer his question all at once, and he couldn't get anything sensible out of the garble of voices. He gave a helpless look to Hermione, who said succinctly, "_He_ is a _Death_ Eater," giving the last two words all the disgust and derision she could ladle into them. 

Severus hoped he was a good enough actor that his attempt to make his skin pale worked. He'd never gotten it right in front of the mirror, though, so he rather doubted it. Of course, he'd only tried it as Severus-Severus, and his skin was awfully pale to begin with. He was pretty sure he got the shocked look down, though. It was very easy to over-do shock, but he thought he did it quite well; just a small widening of his eyes, and a little 'o' for his mouth. 

McGonagall pushed her way through the still-grwoing crowd. "What happened?" she demanded sternly, though with a definite look of concern for him that Severus had never been on the receiving end of before. 

"I didn't do anything, Professor! Snape threw me into the wall and Ron punched him before he could do anything worse. Or explain why." The transfiguration teacher gave Ron a small frown, but she didn't try to punish him either, only asking "Are you all right, Mr. Groves?" Granted Severus-Severus had made the first move, but he was also the only one who ended up _bleeding._ Severus-Matty pushed this thought away. Severus-Matty was a Gryffindor who'd just been attacked. It was highly unlikely that he should be showing concern about the fact that his friend and defender _wasn't_ getting a detention. 

It was just, that punch was going to _hurt_ in a few hours when he lived this again. And he really didn't see any reason why he should throw himself around except that he already had. Time travel was even messier with a timeturner and enemy-doubles of yourself than it was by growing up then taking a time reversal potion. Just when, in what fold of time, had the notion of beating himself up ever seemed like _good_ idea? 

"My head hurts," Severus-Matty complained, answering his new Head-of-House with complete honesty. If she thought it was because he bashed it against the wall, that was her mistake, then, wasn't it? 

McGonagall's eyes sought out the people around him, and landed on Ron. "Mr. Weasley, why don't you escort Mr. Groves up to the Hospital wing?" 

"Yes, Ma'am," he agreed readily, and took Severus by the arm, as if not expecting him to be able to keep his feet without support. Still playing for the sympathy vote of the school, he did not disabuse Ron of the assumption, and let himself be led meekly away. It was something Severus-Severus, or even just-plain-Severus, would never allow to happen, thus setting Matty apart from them in yet another way. 

When they were alone, Severus did pull away, and gave him a hard stare. "What did you do that for?" 

Ron looked totally lost. "Do what?" 

"You punched me!" Severus exclaimed indignantly. 

"I didn-" Ron started to defend himself, then stopped, midword. "Oh." He looked sheepish. "Guess I did, huh? Sorry 'bout that." 

Severus just looked at him for a few minutes, then couldn't help but start laughing at his friend's expression of befuddled embarrassment. "'Salright," he forgave him, still laughing. 

Ron gave him an uncertain half-grin, as if he wasn't really sure what to make of Severus's reaction. 

Severus sobered quickly as a thought occured to him, "After all, I did make you guys promise not to treat me any different, and I guess you didn't, huh? Thanks for sticking up for me, even if it was against me. _Especially_ because it was against me. That promise goes for Severus as well as Matty." Was that why he had done it? So he could make this realization? It was a good enough reason to continue the time loop, anyway. 

Now he just needed a motive for Severus-Severus. 

"Oh, Ron," he said, changing the subject abruptly as a memory (one that he had gained legitimately, not one that floated from nowhere) fell into place. "You're a Weasley, right?" 

"Yeah," Ron answered, sounding suddenly wary. 

"Aren't you some kind of cousin to Katryna Tragyl?" 

The wariness disappeared. "Yeah. Her mum and my dad are cousins. Why?" 

"She's in M-my year," he said, remembering at the last moment to use first person possessive rather than Matty's name. Best not to fall into that pattern when wearing Matty's face. "A Slytherin. Rumour has it she's been friendly to Snape lately. Wondered how well you knew her." 

"Ginny knows her best. I usually played with Kib when we got together with the Tragyls. They're an odd lot, the Tragyls. Tryna's the only girl of the eight of them, and the youngest. Ginny's the only girl of the seven of us, and the youngest, so they really hit it off. Gin was real disappointed when Tryna got Sorted into Slytherin, and she lost a bag of beans to Clarence over it, too." 

"Clarence is her brother, the potions genius," Severus asked, making sure he was remembering right. 

Ron smirked, though whether it was because of some memory associated with that Tragyl or because he was amused that the former potions master was calling someone a 'potions genius', Severus couldn't tell. "Yeah. That one's scary." 

Severus didn't bother to fight back a grin. "Would that be because he actually enjoyed the company of Professor Snape, or because he just is scary?" 

Ron laughed. "Yes." 

"What about Katryna? Is she scary?" 

Ron shot him an odd look. "Tryna? Nah, she's sweet. Everybody likes her. Even if she is Slytherin." 

Severus was surprised. "Everyone? She's friends with Gryffindors and the Slytherins don't ostrasize her?" 

Ron shrugged. "She's Tryna," he said as if that explained everything. 

They fell into a companionable silence, and Severus turned his thoughts to fabricating Severus's motive for throwing around Matty, finally settling the poor excuse of 'I felt like it'. When interrogated by the professors, he would just give a stony silence or insist that Ron get at least equal punishment, if not more. 

Just as they reached they reached the Hospital Wing doors, Severus spoke again, "You know you've made yourself a target for Severus, now, right?" 

Ron gave him an odd look. 

"He'll want revenge for that punch. He is a Death Eater, after all. Harry said you're pretty good a chess. Between us, we can probably choreograph one of the bittest enemities Hogwarts has ever seen." He grinned up at the much taller boy. "It'll be fun!" 

Ron just kind of looked at him, as they stood in front of the Hospital Wing doors. "Anyone ever tell you you're bloody _weird_, Matty?" 

Severus frowned, as though trying to remember. He distinctly recalled both Evan Rosier and Harry Potter telling him so, and Katryna had certainly implied it, but that was Severus, not Matty, so he wasn't sure if they counted. "I think so." 

"Well, you are," Ron told him, then pushed the doors opened. After that, the next few minutes were a blur as Madam Pomphrey descended upon them, and Severus tried to explain that he just a little dizzy after hitting his head. He wasn't entirely sure when Ron was shooed away, but ten minutes after arrival, he was alone and sitting in one of the ward beds with a bandage wrapped around his head and the after-taste of some medical potion in his mouth. 

* * *

_A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! So much for my original clever plan of having Twelve Again finish in 12 chapters. Maybe another twelve will get us closer to a conclusion?_


	13. CouchSide Manner

** Twelve Again  
Chapter Thirteen: Couch-Side Manner **

  
  
Summary: Severus Snape returns from a DE meeting, but something is seriously wrong. He's a kid again. Takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places are still not mine.   
  
  
Katryna was waiting for them when Severus and Fletcher arrived at the potions classroom thursday night, at the prearranged time. "Evening," she greeted them both with a smile. "Auror, if you would take a seat over there? I transfigured a desk into an armchair for you." It was not the only alteration she had made to the classroom. In the center, where there had been rows of desks and chairs, was now an open space filled with a green rug, a long, narrow, red couch, and she sat in another grey armchair, twin to the one she had made for Fletcher. In her lap was a spiral notebook, and a muggle pencil was perched behind her ear. 

All in all, only the ingredients cabinet at the side of the room proved this was the same room he had taken classes in for the last year and a few weeks. The rest of the desks had been transfigured into filled bookcases, and there was even the scupltured head of some random guy sitting on a table next to the girl's chair. Sevreus stared in something very much akin to horror at the changes. "You will be changing all of this _back_, right?" 

She looked around the room, as if wondering if something was out of place. Then she smiled at him, "Of course. But don't you like my psychologist's office?" 

"This is supposed to be the _Potions Classroom_!" he informed her, feeling oddly affronted. 

She waved off this argument, "So we'll hold the next session somewhere else if this bothers you." 

"It does!" he told her, more vehemently than he expected. 

She blinked back at him, somewhat startled, then a wide grin split her face, and she waved toward the couch, "Take a seat, Severus, I think we've already tapped into Professor Snape." She glanced over at Fletcher, who had taken his offered chair, and was watching the proceedings with mild interest. "I'm going to cast my brother's cone of silence spell now, so we can speak privately." 

He frowned but nodded his acknowledgement. Katryna pulled out her wand, and spoke two words that Severus tentatively translated as 'Silence Barrier'. 

"Auror Fletcher is a nasty fiend with a checkered past and an unhealthy obssession with girls underwear," Katryna told him with a serious expression and not a flicker of any of the emotions Severus would expect from such a statement. He tried not to let his astonishment show, but wasn't at all sure he succeeded when she burst into a wide grin. "Just checking to see if the cone worked," she explained, glancing at the Auror, who was looking disgruntled, but not at all furious, as he would have been if he had heard her matter-of-fact toned slander. 

She reached over and turned away a mirror that she had evidently been using to monitor Fletcher's reaction as she spoke. She gave him a smile, "If I can see him, he can see me, and I'd rather not risk that he knows how to read lips." Severus blinked, not having even considered that possibility. He studied the layout of the furniture and noted that it was Katryna's chair and not his couch turned away from the Auror. 

"Mind if I remove my shoes?" he asked her, seemingly out of the blue. 

She looked a little surprised, but made a go-ahead gesture, "Sure." 

He sat on the couch, and bent over - conveniently hiding his face and, more importantly, his lips from the Auror's line of sight - to untie his laces. "Is the cone of silence to protect _my_ words or _yours_?" he asked. 

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, you can hardly get in _more_ trouble, can you? Between the whole Death Eater thing and attacking Matty Groves the other day, your reputation _can't_ get any blacker." 

He slowly removed his first shoe. "That's not true. What if I told you I have killed someone?" 

"Have you?" 

He shrugged, as he pulled the lacings of his other shoe loose. "Not that I remember." 

She frowned thoughtfully. "Well, that's Professor Snape's problem, not yours." 

He shook his head, pulling off the second shoe. "If I get my memories back, then I am Professor Snape again, and it is my problem." 

Katryna leaned back in her chair, and regarded him with an unreadable expression on her face as he sat up. "Do you _want_ your memories back, Sev?" 

What was it with people spontaneously calling him Sev? He had not invited her to do so. Sev was reserved for Harry. And maybe Uncle Albus and Ron, though Ron seemed to prefer Matty even when alone. "I haven't really thought about it, and my name is Severus." 

She blushed, ever so faintly. "Oh, sorry. We'll just work on getting you past your parents deaths for now, then. I understand you were in fourth year when it happened." 

Severus nodded, "That's what the Headmaster implied." 

"Do you know how?" 

He shook his head. "No. And I haven't asked." 

"Well, that's probably the first step, then." 

Find how they died? Was the girl crazy? He didn't want to think about mere fact, nevermind how they came to be in that condition! 

"Ok, hypnosis is a common method for age regression. Granted, it's usually used to access repressed memories from when a subject was younger, but I think it can work to get repressed memories from when you were older. The memories are there, somewhere, otherwise you wouldn't have been able to pop out with Harris's name." 

Severus shook his head violently. "No! I am not going to try to remember that!" He realized he had stood and clenched his fists, and that Fletcher was watching him with his wand drawn. Severus forced the fear and anger down, and returned to his seat on the couch. 

"You need to know what happened in order to accept it," Katryna pointed out reasonably. 

Severus just glared at her. "It won't work and I don't want to know." 

She sighed. "If that's what you think, then you're right. It won't work without your cooperation." She appeared to be mentally debating her options. "There are two other things we could try." 

"What?" he asked, warily. 

"The first is Veritasereum, though I haven't any available right now. I'll need to badger Valr again for that." 

"That's a restricted substance," Severus told her, fairly sure she already knew that. 

She rolled her eyes. "Of course it is. But neither Valr, I, nor you are above bending rules, I'm sure." 

He flicked his eyes toward the Auror, who had put away his wand, but was still watching them intently. "But he might figure it out if he saw me drinking it. Then you and your brother would be in serious trouble." 

She frowned. "You're probably right. Blast. That just leaves ice-breaking." 

"Ice-breaking?" Severus repeated, wondering if this was some sort of winter sport and how that could possibly be of any use. Tension relief? 

"Yes. We sit and talk, and get comfortable with each other until you're ready to trust me." 

Severus snorted. "Like that'll happen." 

"Why wouldn't it?" she asked, genuinely curious. 

"You're Weasley's cousin, aren't you?" he gave her the first excuse he thought of. 

She sighed. "Yes. And Malfoy's as well. You can't honestly say I'm like the one and completely disregard the other." 

"That works both ways." 

She nodded easily, and even smiled as if he had discovered some profound truth, and she was proud of him for it, "Yes, yes it does." 

"So you are like Weasley," he accused. 

"And like Draco," she agreed. 

Severus regarded her through narrowed, suspiscious eyes for a long moment. For the first time, he considered telling her the truth, because, if she was doing the same, then she, perhaps, could understand just exactly what he was dealing with between Matty and Severus. But she was a Slytherin and openly admitted to both a Death Eater grandmother and being like Draco. "You can't be like both," he finally denied. "They're complete opposites." 

She sighed, and let the subject drop. "Have you been sleeping well lately?" 

"Just fine," he lied. 

She took the pencil from behind her ear, and made a little note in her notebook, then bit at the eraser. "Eating all right?" 

"Fine," he told her, wondering if he should make some remark her own eating habits if she found a pencil tasty. He decided against it. 

"What's your favorite color?" 

He blinked, and answered truthfully in his surprise at the question, "Blue." 

She looked at him sharply. "Blue?" she repeated. 

He shrugged. "Black's a close second, especially in conjuction with the blue." 

She rolled her eyes, and he wasn't sure if she suspected him of facetiousness or not. She continued with the random questions, marking down the answers, presumably, in her notebook. If this was supposed to make him trust her, it wasn't working at all. Finally, growing annoyed with the pointlessness of the exercise, he told her, "I think you need to work on your couch-side manner, Doctor." 

She blinked once, then smirked. "No doubt." She closed the notebook, tucked the pencil back behind her ear, and put the notebook on the floor at her feet. "So." 

He lifted a brow. "So." 

"We'll meet again in a week. In the meantime, I'm going to do some more research on 'ice-breaking' and you are going to figure out how your parents died." 

"I'll do no such thing!" he denied. 

"Two weeks, then, and I'll keep badgering you until it's better to ask someone than to keep seeing me." Then she gave him a sweet smile. Severus was quickly growing to fear that smile. 

"And people call _me_ evil," he complained, feeling very unfairly judged. Katryna just laughed, evil witch that she was. 

"Uh-uh-uh," she chastised, "You're letting your good side show." Severus fought a valiant battle to keep the reaction from his face. _Let her be teasing, let her be teasing,_ he silently begged whatever higher beings might be listening. It was, perhaps, the first time in his life that he would be thankful if someone had. The alternative was just too frightening. 

"Ha!" he forced out, but couldn't continue the derision without overdoing it. 

Katryna gave him a sidelong glance. "Everyone has a good side," she told him, seriously now. 

Keeping the relief from his face was almost as hard as keeping back the alarm. _Optimism, just idealistic optimism._ He raised a cynical eyebrow, on familiar territory again. "Even Voldemort?" 

She made a face. "Mmm, why must you people always jump immediately to the extreme cases?" 

"Us people? Who am I in the company of?" 

"Slytherins!" she said as if the House name was a curse or an exasperating child. Severus couldn't quite figure out which. 

"You're a Slytherin," he pointed out, wondering why keep reminding her of things she obviously already knew. 

"Raised by a Gryffindor right along side the Slytherin," she qualified her House loyalties. "Spent as much time with the Weasleys as with Grandmother." 

"And you haven't developed split personalities?" his tongue asked without the permission of his brain. He mentally winced at the faint emphasis on the 'you'. 

She grinned, thankfully not reading anything into the question. "Nah. Just found the overlap." She paused briefly, then shifted the conversation, obviously trying to be subtle, but it seemed glaringly obvious to him. "I'm guessing both your parents got Sorted into Slytherin?" 

"O'course, though Dad swears up, down, and sideways that Mum should've been Ravenclaw. She openly admits that the only way she did get Slytherin was by begging and pleading with the hat so that her parents wouldn't kill her." 

She laughed. "Hat wanted to put my brother Jansten into Gryffindor, but he threatened to intentionally lose as many points as he possibly could if it put him anywhere but Slytherin. And it didn't really know _where_ to put me. I picked Slytherin to even out the family. We already had three in Gryffindor, one in Ravenclaw, one in Hufflepuff, and two in Slytherin. Besides, I'm Dad's favorite, and he'd've been disappointed otherwise." 

"Snapes are always Slytherin. It didn't really consider anywhere else for me, though Evan insisted I was a closet Ravenclaw." 

Katryna grinned. "Who's Evan?" 

"My best friend before the time warp thing. Evan Rosier. You probably never heard of him." 

She shrugged, "Might've heard Gran mention it, but I don't really remember." 

Why would a Death Eater know Evan? Severus decided Katryna was just remembering wrong. Evan was a good kid. He never even helped Severus in his pranks against Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew. 

"Mum and Dad work at the ministry, so Gran used to babysit me when I was little. Well, once I got out of diapers and ate normal food, and stopped all that annoying baby stuff that Gran didn't want to deal with again. Before that, our house elf took care of me during the day." 

"My parents both worked at home," Severus returned, suspecting that Katryna had figured out the art of 'ice-breaking' and wondering if it was really wise to be telling her this. "They didn't have to work at all, we have enough in Gringotts without needing to, but Mum said she'd go mad if she didn't have something to do, so she taught ettiquette lessons to the young sons and daughters of other purebloods. Dad taught the older sons and occassional daughter some things that Hogwarts just doesn't cover, though he only teaches during the summer because he won't take any new students who haven't done well in first year Charms. Damian Goyle was horribly disappointed last summer when Dad refused to accept him because his grades weren't up to his standards." 

Katryna grinned. "What about you? Did you meet his qualifications?" 

"Are you kidding? My dad taught me the first year Charms syllabus by the time I was five, and I was taking his class with the eleven and twelve year olds when I was six. Nepotism rules." 

"How'd youu learn Charms without a wand?" 

Severus blinked. "Who said I didn't have a wand?" 

"Ollivander doesn't sell them to kids under eleven." 

"Roderick's on Knockturn does. Look's like a run-down pub, but it's a wand shop. Got my first one there when I was two, I'm told. Got a real Ollivander's one just before Hogwarts, of course. Roderick wands work well enough as an illegal underage training wand, but Ollivanders is the best and that's what both Dad and I considered my first real wand. Still have the Roderick one in my dresser at home, though, to use during the summer lessons, since the Ministry can't tell when a Roderick wand is used. That's their biggest selling point." 

"Really?" Katryna sounded intrigued. "Is it still there?" 

Severus opened his mouth, then closed it again. He had almost forgotten about the time warp thing. With a pained expression, he answered, "It was, as of 1968." 

She managed to look both sympathetic and disappointed. 

"With a Malfoy as a mother, I'm sure your dad had one. If he didn't give you and your brothers one, it's either because it's gone, or because he was scared of your mother." 

She snorted. "Could be either of those. Don't get me wrong, I adore my dad, but Mum _is_ a Gryffindor. She's afraid of Knockturn Alley and firmly believes everything in it is related to dark magic. He'd never dare suggest bringing a toddler in there." 

"She's not far wrong, really. My mum won't set foot in there either. Says it 'isn't proper'. O'course, that doesn't stop Dad from going and picking up stuff for her while he's there." 

Katryna smirked. "Hypocrisy. Gotta love it." The conversation fell into a lull after that, until Katryna spoke again. "So your mum teaches ettiquette and your dad teaches charms. No wonder you ended up a professor." 

"I didn't say he taught charms. I said kids had to pass charms to take his class. He taught hexes and curses. Nothing Unforgivable, of course." 

"Of course," she repeated drily. 

"Kids are magically incapable of casting those, you know, otherwise they might have been on the curriculum." 

She started to nod, then froze, frowned, and gave him a hard look. "Then how did you miss the Auror with the Killing Curse, if you can't cast it?" 

"I'm thirty-nine, magically speaking. _I_ am quite capable of casting Unforgivables." 

For the first time in his acquaintance with Katryna, she looked mildly intimidated, but that quickly passed. "Really? You're still thirty-nine in magical abilities?" 

"According to one of the other Death Eaters, yes." 

"Wow. That is so wicked. I'm gonna need to pump Gran to see if she knows anything else about what happened to you." 

"I'd appreciate it," Severus drawled. 

Katyrna laughed, "Yeah, I bet you would. So you'll come to the next session with the knowledge of how your parents died?" 

His lifting mood abuptly plummeted again. "You are a manipulative little witch, aren't you?" he growled, letting her know this was not a compliment. 

She only smiled that sweet smile again. "Of course. See you in two weeks?" 

"You can't even guarantee that she'll know anything!" 

Katryna lifted a white-blond eyebrow, reminding him again of Malfoy. And by extention, reminding him that her grandmother _was_ a Malfoy. He wondred briefly if she had done that on purpose. "If anyone outside of the Inner Circle can ferret it out, my grandmother can." Of course she could. The woman was Lucius's aunt, after all. 

"Fine. Two weeks." 

"And you'll find out how your parents died?" 

"Yes," he all but hissed. 

She smiled brightly. "Great!" Then she set about transfiguring her office back into a potions classroom. Severus stalked out the door, and heard Fletcher keeping a close tail on him. He didn't slow or lessen his scowl until he reached 'Severus's Cell', where Severus theoretically spent the night. He slammed the door in Fletcher's face, and turned himself into Matty. As he looked into the room's mirror to check that the transformation was complete, he felt the frustration and anger melt out of him and he reset his mind into Matty-mode. 

Ignoring the mirror's protests that his hair was mussed, he climbed onto the chair beside the fireplace, picked up the floo powder jar from the mantle, and took out a pinch. He returned the jar to it's spot (indicated by a dust free circle), then jumped off the chair and tossed the pinch into the fire. "Headmaster's office!" he cried out and stepped through. The Hogwarts internal floo network was a little different, and a lot faster, than the general floo network that connected much of England together. Instead of passing by lots of different grates, one was brought directly to the one sought, so he stepped out into the Headmaster's office with little worry that he might have hit the wrong fireplace. 

What he wasn't expecting to see was that the Headmaster was in conference with Flitwick, Sprout, McGonagall, and someone he didn't recognize. "Oh! Sorry, Uncle Albus! I didn't mean to interrupt!" he exclaimed when they all turned to stare at him. 

* * *

_A/N: As always, thanks for the many reviews (105, wow!) and keep 'em coming!_


	14. Lies aren't the Truth

** Twelve Again  
Chapter Fourteen: Lies Aren't the Truth **

  
  
Summary: Severus Snape returns from a DE meeting, but something is seriously wrong. He's a kid again. Takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places are still not mine.   
  
  
_**Previously in Twelve Again:**  
What Severus wasn't expecting to see, as he stepped out of the fireplace, was the Headmaster in conference with Flitwick, Sprout, McGonagall, and someone he didn't recognize. "Oh! Sorry, Uncle Albus! I didn't mean to interrupt!" he exclaimed when they all turned to stare at him._   
  
  
"Nonsense, child!" the Headmaster assured him easily. "I believe you know Professors Sprout, Flitwick, and, of course, McGonagall," Severus nodded, and his gaze darted to each Head of House as they were named, then fell naturally to the stranger. Dumbledore continued, "and this is Professor Zmiya, on loan from the Ministry until Professor Snape can resume his duties." 

Severus studied the new teacher with interest. He was older than Professor Snape had been, probably in his late fifties, with neatly trimmed grey hair and sharp blue eyes. Sevrus smiled politely and inclined his head as his mother had taught him to in these kinds of situations. "Pleasure to meet you, sir. You're teaching Potions, then?" 

The man shot Dumbledore a narrowed-eyed look. "Under duress and protest, yes." Dumbledore just smiled and asked if anyone wanted a lemon drop. 

Once Flitwick accepted his and everyone else declined the candy, the new teacher frowned at Severus and asked, "And who are you, boy?" 

"Matty Groves, sir." 

Dumbledore picked up the introduction from there, "Matty's a recent transfer student from Beauxbatons, and my ward. Matty, we're almost finished up here, so why don't you wait for me in the back room," Dumbledore steered him out of the room and through a door he hadn't even noticed in his previous visits to the office. As the door closed behind him, he could hear the Headmaster's words, "His parents, my niece and her husband, sadly, were killed in a recent Death Eater attack." Then the door latched closed and he heard no more of their conversation. 

Instead, he turned his attention to the room he found himself in. It was a pleasant looking sitting-room-type-place, with several comfortable chairs, and a very large fireplace. The rug was soft and plush enough that he felt himself sinking into it even through his shoes. Unlike the office he had entered by, the pictures on the wall did not depict past headmasters, but instead the current one, along with other people he couldn't identify immediately. One of the larger ones, Severus approached, curiously watching the two boys painted there as they broke into an argument. The shorter of them suddenly jumped at the tall, and they were both soon rolling in the painted dirt. When they broke apart for air, they were laughing. The gold plate at the bottom of the frame proclaimed the boys to be "Albus and Aberforth". Severus couldn't even begin to guess which one was which. That Headmaster Dumbledore had ever been a boy was just mind-boggling. 

"Ah! I see you found your grandfather." 

Matty jumped, and spun toward the voice, finding the Headmaster standing behind him, and smiling fondly at the portrait. McGonagall stood in the doorway from the office, though he saw no sign of any of the other adults. "Which one's Gramps Dumbledore, Uncle Albus?" 

"The shorter one," Dumbledore answered, his blue eyes twinkling madly behind the half-moon glasses. "When we have the chance, I must tell you some stories about him." 

"We didn't visit him much," Severus admitted. 

To his surprise, Dumbledore laughed. "I imagine your mother would have never visited, given the option. Your grandfather is not the sanest of men." 

From the doorway, he heard McGonagall try to stifle a snort. The Headmaster looked at her mildly, "Something amusing, Minerva?" he asked, blue eyes still dancing with mirth and mischief. 

McGonagall made a dismissive gesture, wisely deciding not to touch that one with a ten foot pole. "No, I just wanted to ask if it was a conflict of interest for the same man to be holding Severus's job and looking for his cure." 

"Certainly not," the Headmaster declared, "It is incentive. The sooner he finds the cure, the sooner he can leave. Which rather reminds me. Could you tell Flitwick to inform Mr. Tragyl that he has been recommended as the potion's professor's assistant while Professor Zmiya is at Hogwarts and that he should report to Severus's office after breakfast tomorrow?" 

"Clarence?" McGonagall clarified. With seven 'Mr. Tragyl's over the last few years, asking made a lot of sense, even if Clarence was the only Tragyl in Ravenclaw with a reputation for potions. 

"Yes, yes," Dumbledore confirmed. "Was there anything else?" 

The Deputy Headmistress shook her head. "No, that's all. Good night, Albus." 

When she had gone, the Headmaster turned to Severus. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Severus?" 

Severus shrugged, "Just thought you'd like to know that Severus has been talking to Katryna Tragyl lately." 

"Yes," Dumbledore mused, "Mundungus mentioned it." 

"Yeah, well, he missed most of today's conversation, and part of the one over dinner the other day. Did you know her Grandmother Tragyl is a Death Eater?" 

By the lift of the old wizard's eyebrows, Severus knew that he had not. "Miss Tragyl told you this?" 

Severus nodded, wondering why he felt like he was breaking a confidence. He was a _spy_ he was _supposed_ to report what he found. 

"We knew of her grandfather," the headmaster began, but then stopped when Severus shook his head. "What?" 

"Her grandfather was innocent, according to Katryna." 

"Oh. Oh, dear." 

"Innocent being a relative term," Severus qualified, "Katryna's opinion of him seems to be pretty low." And that was saying something. As Ron said, everyone likes Katryna, and she, in turn, seemed to like everyone back. She even spoke warmly of her grandmother. 

The Headmaster made a thoughtful sound. 

"Are you going to do anything about Mrs. Tragyl? Katryna's grandmother?" 

"Not immediately. I'm assuming you're the only one who found out about her loyalties, and I would rather not yet show our our hand. I find it disturbing that Miss Tragyl knew this." 

"She's going to write back again, this time to ask what her grandmother knows about the potion they gave to me." 

"That will certainly be helpful," the Headmaster smiled, "Good work, Severus." 

Severus nodded, and looked back at the 'Albus and Aberforth' painting, watching the two young boys roughhousing again. 

"What is it, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, concerned. 

Severus jumped nearly a foot into the air. "Nothing!" Fighting for calm, he repeated, "Nothing's wrong." The headmaster only looked at him with knowing blue eyes that seemed to read straight into his soul. "It's just that Katryna wants me to find out how my parents died." 

"And you?" the old wizard asked softly. 

Severus shook his head, looking at the painting again. "I don't want to know. That would make it real." 

He felt hands on his shoulders. They squeezed once, then the Headmaster was kneeling beside him, taking him into and embrace. "It is real, Severus," he said gently, but firmly. 

Severus shook his head, denying the words and the tears that the words must bring. 

"Severus, you do want the _truth_, yes?" Dumbledore asked, placing an odd emphasis on 'truth'. 

Truth. Truth is something that is . . . well, true. As opposed to lies. Lies were bad. He didn't want to hear lies, even if they were pretty. Lies weren't the truth. Lies weren't real. Lies were false and could be used against you. Besides, he already _knew_ his parents were dead. Denying it wouldn't make the fact disappear. That was a truth. "Yes," he whispered, terrified that the headmaster would comply with the implicit request. 

"Your parents were Death Eaters." 

"No!" Severus denied immediately. Truth was in the eye of the beholder, and this he could not accept as truth. Dumbledore had it wrong. "No! Mum and Dad are _teachers_! Teachers!" 

"Severus," the headmaster said calmly, looking sad and pained. His twinkle from a few minutes ago was no where in evidence. "What did your father teach?" 

Stricken, Severus froze. Nobody was supposed to know _what_ his dad taught. How did Dumbledore? But Dad was dead now, wasn't he? What did it matter who knew? "Hexes," he whispered, "and curses." The Headmaster waited for more. The old wizard was far more patient than Severus. "Dark Arts," the boy finally admitted. 

Dumbledore nodded solemnly, continuing to wait. But Severus was not ready to make the jump. "Just because he taught them doesn't mean he was Death Eater." 

"His students almost invariably joined Voldemort's ranks," the Headmaster told him sorrowfully. "He was very likely a recruiting agent." 

Severus shook his head. "No. I'd know about it. I took his classes since I was little. And what about Mum? Mum teaches ettiquette! You can't say that's at all like a Death Eater thing!" 

Dumbledore shook his head, and sighed. "No. No, I can't. But the fact remains that your mother was killed by aurors, and your father sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss." 

Severus felt the blood flee his face, and he felt cold all over. He shook his head in numb denial. He was pulled into another embrace, but he hardly noticed that. "I am sorry, Severus," Dumbledore told him quietly, the soft rumbling voice seeming to come from everywhere. 

Katryna's grandfather was innocent, but he got sentenced to Azkaban anyway. The same must have happened to his parents. Because they couldn't be Death Eaters. Not his Dad, and certainly not his Mum. As the shock wore off, anger rose to replace it and he pulled violently away from the old wizard. "Your side killed them!" 

Dumbledore regarded him sadly, "Severus, they had Marks on their arms." 

Severus just shook his head, refusing to believe his parents would do that. "You're wrong." 

"I wish I was, Severus." 

"Not my parents," Severus denied. But his traitous memory brought back scenes of family dinners where that thrice-cursed phrase 'like-minded wizards' came up in the same sort of context as Lucius used. He dared not examine his father's Dark Arts lectures too closely, for fear of proving the Headmaster right. After all, in his second year, the term 'Death Eater' hadn't been coined yet. If Father had been involved with Voldemort, it would explain Lucius's occassional conversations with him, even as a mere first year. The older boy had never sought out any of the other kids in his class. 

It was all adding up to a very disturbing picture. 

Ok, so. His father was a Death Eater. He could almost concede that. But, "Not Mum. Dad, I can picture, but not Mum. She's a _Ravenclaw_." At the confusion evident in the Headmaster's face, he added, "Unofficially. She made the Hat put her in Slytherin to make my grandparents happy. But as far as she, Dad, and most of their friends were concerned, she was a Ravenclaw." Then, because he saw it as relevant, he repeated his first argument, "She teaches _ettiquette_ and _politeness_ and _manners_! What does she do as a Death Eater? Go up to prisoners and asked them to _please_ tell them all their secrets? Or perhaps offering tea, and making her apologies about the inconvienance before she kills someone? No, I figured it out, she writes the invitations to the meetings. That is, she did, before she died, and Voldemort had to resort to the crude method of burning people's arms off to tell them that they were expected." 

"Severus." Just his name. That's all the Headmaster had to say to crumble the wall of anger Severus was building. He dropped to a sitting position on the floor, not wasting the energy to find a chair to flop into. Instead he just curled up, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his head on his knees. 

"I hate him," Severus said, speaking into what would have been his lap, if his legs weren't tucked up against his face. 

A rustling sound indicated the Headmaster's progression toward him. Then more noises, and the wooden floor shifted slightly under him. By the nearness of the other's breathing, the Headmaster had joined him on the floor. "Hate is a very strong word, Severus." 

"I _hate_ him!" Severus repeated, even more vehemently, though he did not change his position. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Who?" 

"Him! It's all his fault!" 

The hand began to rub his back. "Whose fault?" 

"His," Severus hissed. It wasn't that he didn't want to speak his name, like so many others. It was just that he didn't know _how_ he was supposed to address the creature that had claimed him as his own. "I hate him. I will kill him, Headmaster." 

Dumbledore sighed, continuing the circular motions of his hand. Severus guessed the old wizard had figured out who 'him' was, because he didn't remark on the morality of killing. Or lack thereof. Even if she didn't have moral objections to it, which he wasn't convinced of, Severus was sure his mum would have found killing to be 'rude' at the very least. But Voldemort was more than a little deserving of that kind of rudeness. Because if his parents hadn't idiotically followed him, they wouldn't be dead now, now would they? 

And to kill Voldemort, he had to spy on him. And to spy on him, he had to act submissive. And to act submissive, he had to bury that anger, and bury it deep, where no one could ever see it. He waved a hand, turning momentarily into Severus, then waved it again, swapping back to Matty. The anger had to be buried in Severus, after all. When he uncurled from his tight fetal position on the floor, he was smiling. "Did I tell you what happened in Charms today, Uncle Albus?" 

Uncle Albus looked at him in worried concern, but shook his head in answer to the question. "No, you did not." 

* * *

Albus watched the boy leave through his office, and step onto the rotating staircase. The child's transformation in his office today was disturbing in two respects, and astonishing in a third. What had been astonishing was that Severus had changed his appearance without the assistance of a wand. Adult Severus had been capable of some small amounts of wandless magic, but child Severus had never been taught how to channel magic without using one, particularly without speaking either. It was a difficult process, and one many adults never mastered. Child Severus had performed the wandless, wordless self-transfiguration, a difficult spell in its own right, with hardly a thought, twice, in the space of less than a minute. 

Taking the seat behind his desk, Albus looked at, without seeing, the mounds of paperwork he, as Headmaster, was expected to fill out. Had the potion, meant to mantain Severus's original magical age, actually advanced it instead? His ability seemed to imply it. When the opportunity arose, Albus made a note to himself, he and Severus should test the child's true magical age, and pehaps give him some excersises to stretch his limits. 

The disturbing bits were less easily filed away as interesting trivia to test at some later time. The first was that Severus had felt the need to flipflop between the two idententies as he had. The second was that he was very obviously 'Matty' afterwards, and he acted as if the stressful Severus conversation hadn't happened only moments before. This would bear watching. Perhaps he should even have a word with Harry about it. 

* * *

_A/N: Coming soon to a fanfic site near you: Chapter 15, in which Harry's midnight conversation with Sirius gets interrupted by a sleepless Matty Groves. As always, reviews welcome and appreciated._


	15. The Head in the Fire

** Twelve Again  
Chapter Fifteen: The Head in the Fire **

  
  
Summary: Severus Snape returns from a DE meeting, but something is seriously wrong. He's a kid again. Takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places are still not mine.   
  
  
Severus stared at the drawn curtains around his bed, marvelling yet again at their sheer red-ness. Well, in the poorly lit room, they were more of a dull maroon color, but they were still a far cry from the green he had grown accustomed to during his first year. His year mates (Matty's year mates; Severus's elders by a year) slept soundly, their breathing slow and regular. Matty's advantage over Severus was that none of his roommates snored. Deciding he had waited long enough to satisfy his conscience that he had at least _tried_ to sleep, and that it would elude him until after his late-night conversation with Harry, Severus climbed out of bed and padded silently down the stairs to the Common Room. 

Admittedly, he was earlier than normal. He usually did manage a short nap before coming down after a nightmare or pain in his arm. Still, he expected the usual tableau of Harry sitting in one of the chairs staring at the fire. Which, he had to admit, was the case. However, what he hadn't expected to see, but did, was a head in the fireplace talking to Harry. A man's head, with short, dark hair, who looked sort of familiar. Severus mentally subtracted some thirty-years from the man's face, and added in the additional fact that he was talking to _James Potter's son_ and reached a conclusion. 

"Black!?" 

The man looked alarmed. Harry turned briefly, to give Severus a smile and a nod, then spoke to the man. "Don't worry, Sirius, he won't tell anyone. Matty's trustworthy." 

Severus came to sit next to Harry, his gaze never leaving the face of the grown man who used to be his yearmate. "Hi," Severus greeted him, any dislike he still harbored dimming in favor of talking to somebody who he knew. 

"Harry," Sirius began, warningly. 

"He's Dumbledore's nephew," Harry told him, and Severus frowned slightly. This was Black. Potter's best friend. Shouldn't Harry be spilling secrets? The older boy had made it virtually impossible for Severus to not tell Ron and Hermione. He hadn't expected anything different here. But Harry looked to be intentionally emphasizing Matty over Severus. 

Taking his cue from Harry, Severus quickly reviewed his next words before speaking them, "Your godfather, right?" Harry had mentioned it once, Severus vaguely recalled. He could have just as easily been speaking to Matty. Severus wasn't even sure that it wasn't Matty who had been told. 

Harry nodded. "Sirius, this is Matty Groves." 

Severus inclined his head politely. "Pleasure to meet you, sir." Sir? Sirius Black? Ooh, that hurt. But he had to play to character. He didn't miss the quick, odd look Harry shot him, though. That was almost worth the indignity, and he took an extra effort to hold back the amused smirk that he wanted to shoot back. 

Even Sirius lifted his brows in surprise at him. Speaking to Harry again, "I'm assuming you told him the truth, then?" 

"He knows it was Pettigrew who betrayed my parents, not you," Harry told him, nodding, though Severus had known no such thing. Time to reconstruct history using puzzle pieces again. Pieces: Lily and James were married and had Harry. Lily and James died. Harry lived through an Avada Kedavra, taking out Voldemort by doing so. Black didn't betray the Potters. Pettigrew did. Conclusions: Voldemort attacked the Potters. Pettigrew sold them out. Black was blamed. 

Black, betray James. To Voldemort. In Severus's opinion, it was completely incomprehensible. Nearly as incomprehesible as Peter doing so. Severus couldn't help it. "Peter?! Peter - little quiet Peter who cries when a teacher looks at him funny - _that_ Peter killed James Bloody-I'm-a-Gryffindor Potter?" 

Both Harry and Sirius were staring at him. Blast, that was most definately not a Matty thing to say. Harry sighed. "I already told you, my father's middle name was Harold." 

Sirius's eyes were narrowed suspiciously. 

Severus looked at Harry. "He doesn't know about what happened, does he?" 

"If he does, Professor Lupin told him, because I didn't." 

A low growl came from the occupied fireplace, and Severus turned to look at Black, an innocent expression on his face. Sirius appeared more than a little annoyed already, and was watching Severus distrustfully. Severus smiled, trying to keep his evil thoughts from his face. "Did you hear about what happened to that poor sod Snape?" 

Black's already narrowed eyes turned to slits, the growl repeated. Severus tentatively translated this to mean 'no.' "Turns out he was a Death Eater spy. What's-His-Name -" 

"You-Know-Who," Harry corrected. 

"You-Know-Who," Severus repeated, continuing his narrative as if he hadn't made a mistake, "found out and made him take an experimental potion. Bloody wretched thing." Severus held his hand level, palm down, even with the top of his head. "Transformed the guy." He began lowering his hand; as it descended, he appeared as Severus above the hand and Matty below. "Took away all his memories back twenty-seven years. Marked him again. Looks like a ten-year old." The hand reached the bottom of his chin, and he made a curt wave, turning the skin on his neck and below back to its normal color and losing the freckles. "Thinks he's twelve now. Real pity. I hear he was good at potions, though he evidently wasn't a very good or nice teacher. The kid's a real prat, too. A Death Eater in truth. Doesn't much care for Harry, here, but he really hates Ron and Matty Groves." 

Severus returned his hand to the top of his head and repeated the procedure, turning back into Matty. "Matty's a nice boy. Third year. Dumbledore's nephew who transferred from Beauxbatons after his parents were killed in a Death Eater attack. Sorted into Gryffindor like the rest of his family, and adopted Harry, Ron, and Hermione as his big brothers and sister. Adopted in truth and legality by Albus Dumbledore himself." His hand reached the bottom of his chin again, a flick of the wrist later and the pale skin darkened slightly and developed freckles in the same places as before. "Snape claims not to have killed my parents, but the rumour was started by an auror, so most everyone believes it. Evil Slytherin sod. You can't believe a word he says." He paused a moment, then smiled brightly, in true Matty fashion. "Hi, I'm Matty Groves." 

Severus smirked at the dumbfounded expressions he had generated from both his listeners. Getting that reaction from Harry was fun, but from adult Sirius? Priceless. 

"That was really freaky, Sev," Harry said, breaking the silence first. 

Severus's already smug smirk got worse. "Good, that's what I was going for." 

Severus glanced aside to check on Sirius's response, but the fire was empty. He frowned, puzzled. Then the flames leapt with green, and a very grown-up, and consequently much taller, Sirius Black flew into the room, grabbed Harry, pulling the other boy off his chair and behind the man. Severus stared up at him, too startled, to move, and his eyes widened in worried surprise as he saw that Black had his wand drawn on him. "Sirius!" Harry protested. Severus looked past the threatening form of Black to see Harry sprawled out on the floor of the Common Room. 

"You okay there, Harry?" Severus asked, appearing to ignore Black, to annoy him, not because he had dismissed his former year-mate as a threat. He most certainly had done no such thing. He was very much aware of every movement Black made. He was also being very careful not to make any sudden movements himself. 

"Fine," Harry assured him. "Sirius, what do you think you're doing? You're supposed to be in hiding!" 

Sirius didn't seem to hear him. The man's eyes never left Severus, and the second-year was started to get a creepy feeling inside. That wasn't just dislike in those brown eyes. That was fear and real hatred. Not disgust and mild hate like Fletcher's, but real, powerful _hatred_. Aimed at _him_. Severus pressed back into his chair's cushions, hoping he didn't look as intimidated as he felt. He didn't even hate Voldemort that much. Severus met Black's eyes, practicing hiding his fear. 

"Snape," Sirius growled, still pointing his wand at Severus's forehead. 

Severus waved his hand over his face again, turning back into Severus again. "That's me," he agreed, faking ease and facetiousness. He could only hope Black and Harry couldn't hear his heart pounding. 

Black flicked his wand even before Severus had finished talking, and spoke a hex that Severus knew would bind him. He yelped, and launched himself out of the chair, narrowly avoiding the spell. "What was that for?!" he cried, rolling to his feet and drawing his own wand defensively. Harry had drawn his as well, and moved to stand between them, glaring at Black. 

"Move Harry, that creature's dangerous." 

"To you, maybe," Severus retorted, getting angry now. 

"Sev, don't bait him," Harry warned. 

"Bait him! He started it!" Severus protested his innocence, pointing left-handed at Black, and lowering his wand as he did so. 

That could have been a fatal mistake if Harry hadn't been standing between them, forcing Black to sidestep to get a shot at him. By the time he had, Severus had his wand back up, and was crouched, ready to jump in any direction. 

"Sirius! Stop this right now! What's gotten into you?" 

"You saw what he did!" Black exclaimed, pointing his wand at Severus, who retreated a step. 

"Put your wands away, both of you. What did he do, Sirius?" Severus didn't mind that Harry seemed to focusing mostly on Sirius. The fellow was clearly a deranged madman who obviously needed calming and humouring. He slowly put his own wand away, trusting Harry to defend him, and hoping it would made Black a little less antagonistic. 

"_That_ abomination," Black gestured with the wand again. Harry stepped forward, and neatly picked the length of wood right out of his hand. Severus silently cheered him, but outwardly just watched warily. Black hardly seemed to notice his disarming, as he glared hatefully at Severus, "is dangerous and likely not even human anymore." 

Severus frowned in confusion. Of all the accusations he expected, that one wasn't even in the top twenty. "What?" Did he mean the Dark Mark? Admittedly, Death Eaters were frightening and awful people, but they were still human. If he'd met Nott in any other circumstances, he'd've probably liked the guy. 

"What are you on about, Sirius? I know you didn't like him, but this is crazy." 

"Hasn't anything to do with school," Black disagreed, his eyes never leaving Severus's, and for the first time, Severus realized that what lurked there held as much fear and terror of him as it did hatred. Severus cocked his head and narrowed his eyes speculatively, anger dissipating under this new discovery. 

"Then what is it? Sirius, it's like he's only twelve again." Severus nodded, trying to look innocent and twelve. Kind of hard, when he knew he looked ten. 

"That ain't no twelve year old," Sirius growled. Of course Black wouldn't go for it. He knew Severus when he really was twelve. He knew that he looked younger. Blast. He was about to try to explain about his ten-year-old appearance, when Black continued, "Ain't no twelve year old who can do wandless magic." 

Severus blinked. _Wandless magic?_ He hadn't done any wandless magic. He hadn't done any magic at all. He'd only drawn his wand when he'd been threatened, but he hadn't even used it. Harry was looking at him oddly, too. Not suspiciously like Black, but definitely more warily than he had been. "When?" Severus asked, trying to figure out what they were talking about. 

"Changing your face, Sev," Harry said carefully. He looked like he thought he was dealing with two very volatile rabid dogs. 

"Changing my face," Severus repeated, going back over the last few minutes. Right. He'd forgotten he'd switched back and forth between Matty and Severus a couple times. "I used a wand for that." They continued to just look at him, and doubt crept over him. "Didn't I?" 

Harry shook his head. 

"I didn't use a wand." Though the sentence passed itself off as a statement, the uncertain look on his face gave away his doubt. 

Harry nodded. 

"I'm still magically thirty-nine. Professor Snape must've done it enough to become habit." 

"Well, he didn't think highly of wand-waving," Harry said, dubiously. 

Severus heard him as background noise. He was too busy trying to remember actually casting wandless magic. It wasn't until he reviewed, for the the third time, his dramatic history of Matty and Severus in front of Black's head that he realized why he was having such difficulty with it. He hadn't noticed before because he hadn't noticed he was casting anything. He'd just kept up his narrative, without a wand, and used only gestures in place of spell words. "I can do wandless magic," he said, still sounding stunned, interrupting something that Harry was saying about the Professor. 

When both Black and Harry were looking at him again, he broke into a smile, and repeated more excitedly, "I can do wandless magic!" Then, just because he could, he turned into Matty again. Wandlessly. "This is so bloody brilliant!" He pointed at an unlit torch and it burst into flame. He turned toward Harry, grinning widely, his green-blue eyes alight. He felt like Christmas had come months early. "Need to tell Uncle Albus!" 

Harry laughed, and caught him before he could fly out of the room. "In the morning, Sev. This news will keep." 

"But," Severus began, then conceded that, wonderful as his ability was, and as urgently as he wished to tell his . . . headmaster . . . about it, it probably wasn't worth a detention should Filch catch him coming or going. "Alright. Morning." Harry smiled approvingly, and let go of his nightshirt. "First thing, before the sun comes up," Severus qualified. He was sure he'd never be able to sleep tonight, anyway. 

Black was staring at him as though he'd suddenly sprouted wings and breathed fire. Or perhaps as if he had drunk an experimental potion, lost twenty-seven years of memory and mental age, twenty-nine years in physical age, and then changed his appearance using wandless magic. Feeling too pleased with himself to continue the feud with Harry's godfather, he stuck his hand out toward Black, "Hi, I'm Harry's friend, Matty." 

"Matty," Black repeated, almost blankly. 

Severus nodded, grinning, "Yeah. Matty Groves. I'm a third year Gryffindor, Sorted by the Hat itself. Pretty embarassing, given my alter-ego." 

"You're a Gryffindor." Stunned, no emphasis. Just parroting back Severus's words. 

Severus nodded, his green-blue eyes dancing merrily. Harry grinned, too, silently laughing at Black's dumbfounded expression. "Got five points to Gryffindor yesterday for answering a question right in Herbology," Severus added smugly. 

"_You_ are a Gryffindor." Disbelief now. 

"Made Snape lose twenty points from Slytherin today, too," Severus told him proudly. "And me and Ron'll get him good tomorrow, too. We'll make it look like his fault, too. Got my inspiration from you, of course." Flattery, for Sirius Black. Not only Father is spinning for this, but Professor Snape'll probably scream if and when he ever comes back. Well, that's the Professor's problem. Severus just wanted Harry's godfather to not spill his secret. If fighting the uphill battle of getting the Gryffindor to like him was the best way to assure that, then desperate measures must be taken. 

"You're a _Gryffindor_?" Continued disbelief. 

"It's really quite fun, plotting the loss of Slytherin points. We'll probably branch into Malfoy baiting if it gets too boring only picking on Snape. After all, we _know _how Severus will react." 

"You _are_ a Gryffindor." Slow acceptance, but still doubtful. 

Severus grinned. "Yep. That's me. Matty the Reckless Hero Groves, Great Nephew to Albus Dumbledore, and Taker of Arithmancy and Muggle Studies." 

Harry nudged him in the arm and stage whispered, "Arithmancy is a stereotypical Ravenclaw class, not Gryffindor." 

Severus stage whispered back, "Well, I was trying not to insult Gryffindor by bringing up Divination." 

At that, both Harry and Black started laughing. 

* * *

_A/N: Since this chapter was Quilynn's fault - er, idea (Me: Oi, Sis, how do I bring in Sirius to this story? Her: Burning heads, of course, O Great One) - you can thank her by reading and reviewing her story, The Hufflepuff Concerto (address: http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1114163), which will eventually have Tragyl cameos, and is an excellent story._


	16. A Very Rare Child

** Twelve Again  
Chapter Sixteen: A Very Rare Child **

  
  
Summary: Severus Snape returns from a DE meeting, but something is seriously wrong. He's a kid again. Takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places remain JK Rowlings'. The Hannah Korvil cameo comes from Quilynn's _Hufflepuff Concerto_.   
  
  
Severus was right. He hadn't slept much at all the night before. Most of it, he had tried out as many minor spells he could think of that wouldn't wake his roommates. Wandless, of course. _Lumos_ had been easily the most disconcerting, as it made his whole fingertip glow brightly. When it got to be five AM, Severus climbed out of bed and tiptoed out of the room, then ran down the stairs, out of the common room, and to the Headmaster's office. 

"Cadbury Egg!" he called out to the gargoyle, skidding to a stop, just in front of the appearing staircase. Too impatient to ride the stairs to the top, he took them two at a time to the Headmaster's door, using his hands as neccessary to speed the process. "Uncle Albus!" 

After what seemed a short eternity to the boy, the door opened. The door to the Headmaster's inner chambers was open, and a night-gowned and sleeping-capped Headmaster stood a few steps in front of him, smiling at him in bemusement. "What is it, Severus?" 

Hardly noticing his 'uncle's' attire, Severus just held out his pointer finger between them. "Watch. _Lumos!_" His finger started to glow. "And this," he blew on the finger and it went out like a candle. But without the smoke. 

The headmaster looked impressed. "Can you do lumos without saying the spell?" 

Severus nodded. He had, after all, spent most of the night experimenting. He flicked his pointer against his thumb, striking it like a match. Like a match, too, it burst into light. Then, to prove the opposite worked, too, he said, "Nox," and his finger went out again. He grinned, and looked at the headmaster brightly, "Isn't it brilliant?" 

Dumbledore chuckled. "Brilliant," he agreed, then sobered, "Severus, you must be very careful not to use this gift as Matty, nor even as Severus." 

Severus frowned, "Why?" 

"Because not even Professor Snape could do this." 

The boy blinked. "Then how come I can? I didn't even realize I was doing it 'til someone pointed it out. I thought the Professor just did it so much it was habit." 

"I believe it was an unexepected side effect of the time reversal potion." 

Severus thought about that. "But how come I can _do_ it? The potion might've given me the _ability_, but it can't tell me how to _use_ it. When did I _learn_?" 

"That, my boy, is a question we may never answer." The headmaster picked up a shiny, multicolored paperweight from the desk, and handed it to Severus. "Wandlessly transfigure this into a pincushion and tell me how you do it." 

Severus hefted the heavy object once, then frowned, concentrating on it. He poked at it, biting his lower lip. Nothing happened. "Just willing it to change doesn't work," he dutifully reported. He held the paperweight between his two small hands, barely managing a complete cover. He pressed his palms against it, loosened the grip, then repeated that over and over again. He felt it slowly start to feel less glossy and rock-hard, and become fuzzy under his hands. When he could squeeze it, and not reach a solid middle, he opened his hands. Neither the shape nor color had not changed, but he handed the light-weight, fuzzy, stuffed object over to the Headmaster. "I just kept squeezing it until it got soft all the way through." 

"Did you channel magic into it?" 

Severus shrugged. He assumed magic must have been involved somewhere, since paperweights did not become pincushions just by squeezing them. "I guess." 

"Turn it back and pay attention to how you use your magic." He handed back the pincushion. 

Severus put it between his hands again. He tried squeezing it back into a paperweight, but, after almost a minute, it was no harder than it had been at the start. "That's not working. Can't make it hard by loosening it up and moving it around." He put the pincushion down on the desk, then knelt down beside it, eye-level with the object. He watched it, imagining it was his mum's melted chocolate drying in their molds. "This might take a while," he told the Headmaster, not looking away from the pincushion. He watched it, letting it harden, not touching it. He felt the Headmaster's eyes on him, but he ignored that, concentrating on the hardening paperweight. Somehow, he knew it was working this time. Sure enough, a few minutes later, the fuzziness sunk back into the paperweight, as it became shiny and solid once again. He waited a little while beyond when it looked done, remembering that touching a chocolate too soon, even if it looked done, would mess up that one's shape. 

Once he was satisfied that it had finished hardening, he picked it up, and handed it over to the Headmaster for inspection. "I was making it hard by looking at it. I don't know how." 

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "I think you never learned how to harness this power. I believe you are using it by intuition and instinct." 

Severus frowned. "Like little kids using accidental magic?" 

The headmaster put a hand on his shoulder, and the paperweight back on his desk. "You have a bit more control than that, of course. Your strength with this seems to be well-practiced spells rather than transfigurations. Try lighting that candle," he nodded at a candlebra on the other side of the room with only one candlestick in it. 

Severus pointed, and it burst into flame with little ado, as the torch had the previous night. The relative speed and ease, compared to the transfigurations, was obvious. 

"Make it go out." 

He closed one eye, and pressed his thumb and forefinger together, so that, from where he stood, it looked like he was snuffing out the distant flame. When he lowered his hand, the candle was unlit. He looked over at the Headmaster, feeling very pleased with himself. 

"_Locomotor Mortis_," Dumbledore cast suddenly and casually. Without a wand. 

Severus looked down at his locked legs, then stared in disbelief at the Headmaster. "What was that for?" 

"Do the counter curse, child," the old wizard instructed, soundly mildly apologetic. 

Oh. Just another test. With a small frown of concentration, he slapped himself hard on the thigh. The force of it sprawled him out on the floor, but he grinned up at the Headmaster as he drew up one knee in preparation for standing up again. He rubbed ruefully at the tingling spot on his leg, but met Dumbledore's twinkling gaze. "Did it," he told him unneccessarily, but feeling too self-satisfied to forego comment all together. 

"I will speak to Remus about helping you develop these talents." 

Severus tilted his head in confusion. "I thought I wasn't to tell anyone?" 

"Remus already knows of your spying, and it will make the both of us feel better if we know you can defend yourself." 

Severus nodded slowly, that made sense. "Does he know wandless magic, then?" 

"Outside of mages, yourself, and possibly Voldemort, I know of no witch or wizard younger than one hundred who can do wandless magic at will." 

Severus blinked. "A hundred? I'm only twelve. Or thirty-nine. Which is still a long way from a hundred." 

Dumbledore smiled fondly at him. "Of course, child." 

"No wonder Sirius was freaked out." 

The headmaster stilled briefly, his only sign of surprise. "Mr. Black has learned of your secrets?" 

Severus blushed faintly. "Harry said something about Peter that surprised me. After that, we sort of had to tell him. He was coming 'round by the time he left." 

"'Coming 'round,'" Dumbledore repeated. "You got Sirius Black to 'come 'round,' instead of maiming each other?" 

Severus grinned, "It was a near thing when he first jumped through the fireplace, but Harry took away his wand, and we talked mostly civilly after that, and I even got him to laugh a couple times. Mum would've been proud, I think. I was very good and didn't hex him once." 

Dumbledore just blinked his blue eyes a few times. "You are a very rare child, Severus." 

* * *

His first potions class of '95 was as Severus Snape. Matty would have it the next day. He stepped into the classroom, glad to see that no trace of Katryna's psychologist's office remained. It felt far more homey in its natural trimmings. His black eyes sought out different ingredients in the mostly-for-show jars lining the front of the classroom, and was pleased to note that he recognized most of them. On the teacher's podium stood a very young man who couldn't be much older than Harry. Severus's first thought was that he must be one of Ron's brothers, judging by the older boy's red hair, but then the green-eyed gaze fell on him and his face broke into a broad smile. 

"Professor!" the boy exclaimed delightedly. 

From what he had learned since arriving in this year, there was only one, possibly two if you counted Draco Malfoy, student who actually liked their potions professor. He checked. Yep, the boy wore a Ravenclaw badge. "Hello, Clarence." 

If anything, his face brightened more. "Oh! You remember me! Tryna said your memory was on the fritz." 

What a fritz was or why his memory would be on one, Severus couldn't guess, but he nodded anyway, "It was a reasonable guess." 

"Oh," the Ravenclaw looked crestfallen, then brightened again immediately, "So you're really like you were twelve again, huh? How'd that happen? Did it hurt? Was Voldemort involved? Can you really not remember anything? Was it a potion? What did it taste like? Do you know what was in it? I can think of a few ways you could make one t-" 

Severus had held up his hand to fend off the deluge of words and questions. He hadn't really expected the Ravenclaw to stop midword at the gesture. The kid must've been well trained by the Professor. 

He made the mistake of lowering his hand again without having made a specific remark or question. The flow of words picked up right where they had left off. "-o do that kind of thing. Tryna says you've had a few resurfacing memories, so they must not have been totally eradicated, only surpressed, and that would have to be dried elephant blood. It was a potion, right?" 

Severus nodded, feeling rather overwhelmed. 

"Great! I bet I can reverse engineer it. Might have some trouble reproducing the imperfections; you've got resurfacing memories and your physical and mental age don't quite mesh, Tryna said, but once I have that, an antidote'll be a snap to produce." He snapped his fingers by way of demonstration, "D'you think I can get extra credit, if I get it right?" 

Severus nodded again. Extra credit was a given, even if he didn't succeeded. If he did, a bonus of at least a hundred house points was also likely. An award for Sevices to the School was nearly guaranteed. His future career would be presented on a platter, and he'd likely have scholarship offers to every wizarding university in the world. 

"Cool," he said, happy with just the extra credit. 

The new professor swept in then. He scowled briefly at Severus, then began calling roll. At "Korvil, Hannah," a small disturbance broke out as a Slytherin threw a paper broomstick into a Hufflepuff's hair. Slytherin was docked ten points, and the roll call continued. Clarence came to stand next to the offending student and spoke softly into his ear, pointing first at Severus, then at one of the more vile looking jars. The Slytherin boy paled noticeably, and did not cause any further problems throughout the entire class period. Clarence returned to the teacher's side. 

When attendance had finished, the Professor looked out across the students, and introduced himself, "My name is Professor Zmiya, and some of you may already know Clarence Tragyl," he nodded at Clarence. "Clarence will be helping me keep with Snape's syllabus," most of the class, as well as the teacher turned to look at Severus. He ignored them. Shortly, the teacher resumed his speech, "and will be helping out in the classroom when he has a free period." 

"You guys are one of the lucky ones," Clarence told them, with a smile Severus might have called evil if he hadn't spent the last week contemplating Death Eaters and Voldemort. "We're already over a week behind, so we're going to squeeze two lessons into next class. But we'll start with one lesson to the period today. This lesson is on Stretching Potions." He turned around began writing the recipe on the board. 

"Turn to page 198 in your text," Zmiya ordered. "The ingredients are in the cabinet. Both Clarence and I will answer questions if you have any." 

Severus turned to the appropriate page, and scanned the instructions. Before he finished, he noticed that he was no longer sitting alone at his desk. He looked up, reaching prudently for his wand, and found himself face-to-face with a Hufflepuff boy. "What?" 

"You don't have a partner," the Hufflepuff pointed out. "I was hoping you'd let me join you. I _really_ need to pass this class this year." Severus closed his eyes. Of course the hopeless cases would want to partner him. He grew up to be a Potions Master, after all. "Fine. Get the ingredients." His plan was simple, leave the mindless, annoying work to the Hufflepuff, and do the interesting, tricky bits himself. The other boy would get his good grade, and Severus would get out of chopping up the tough Elsewhire Root. 

Once Clarence finished writing out the recipe - apparently by memory - he began pacing up and down the aisle, peeking into everybody's cauldrons as the professor just sat at the front table. As the Hufflepuff - he'd made a conscious decision not to ask the boy's name, though it went against everything his mother had ever taught him - chopped up the Root, and Severus measured out crushed Beetle Wings, he heard Clarence give a cutting remark about the consistancy of Malcolm and Graham's potion. As the Ravenclaw moved away, Malcolm muttered something about 'worse than Snape.' 

Clarence spun abruptly toward them again. "Five points for disrespect to a prefect!" He then glanced over at Severus and gave an embarrassed smile. "You know, you're right. That is kinda fun." 

Severus tried not to laugh, and plastered on a scowl instead. "You're supposed to _favor_ the Slytherins." 

The red-haired boy grinned, "Oh, but I'm not Slytherin. I'm Ravenclaw. And Ravenclaws don't need favoring." 

"Insolent prat," Severus muttered. 

"Learned from the best, sir," Clarence agreed, smirking, then ended the conversation by dashing over to a pair of Hufflepuffs at the back of the room, "Don't put that in yet! Ten points for nearly blowing up the school!" 

At the end of the period, Severus didn't really understand what purpose the nominal professor had served. For all the grumbling of his classmates, Severus thought Clarence was right. Their class was one of the lucky ones, if that professor 'taught' by himself in other periods. He had far more confidence in Clarence finding his antidote than Professor Zmiya. 

* * *

Matty's potion class was the next day. Gryffindor-Slytherin for the third-years this year. Severus saw Katryna walking down the hall several feet ahead of him, and pushed through the intervening crowd and caught up to her, "Hey, hi. You're Ron's cousin, Katryna, right?" 

"Tryna, yeah," she agreed. "You're that new kid, Dumbledore's nephew, Groves, right?" 

"Matty, yeah," Severus confirmed. 

"Sorry about your folks." 

Severus shrugged. "Yeah. Um, well, oh, your brother's the new Potions Assistant, right?" 

"Clarence, yeah. He's _thrilled_ about it." 

"Is he free this period?" 

"He's got Transfiguration," Tryna told him, relief in her voice. 

"Darn it!" 

She laughed. "I wouldn't worry about it overmuch. I heard he's a real terror, a junior Snape, but worse on Slytherins, so _nobody_ likes him. He's really nice outside of the Potions lab, though." 

"You're his sister, you'd be safe, surely." 

"Ha!" Tryna laughed, "Are you kidding? This would've been the _perfect_ opportunity for him to get _me_ back for getting _him_ in trouble at the beginning of the year. Besides, I'm Slytherin." 

"What's that to do with anything? I thought his favorite teacher was Snape." 

She rolled her eyes. "_Snape_ teaches potions. _Slytherins_ are the competition." 

"So are Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs." 

She smirked, "He doesn't consider Hufflepuff a threat. And he's a pseudo-Gryffindor since his third year when he pretended to be his twin Menteron for half the year until they were both nearly expelled when they got found out. His first loyalty is Ravenclaw, of course, but Gryffindor is a close second." 

"And you?" Severus asked, arching an eyebrow. 

"Oh, definitely Slytherin," she laughed, "No second loyalty for me. What about you?" 

"Gryffindor all the way," Severus grinned. 

"Great, glad we understand each other. Do you have a potions partner?" 

Severus raised a brow, "You'd partner a Gryffindor?" 

She shrugged indifferently, "Why not? I'm a Tragyl. The other Slytherins understand. The other Gryffindors do, too, if that's what you're worried about." 

"Nah, what I wonder is: Do you have any of your brother's skills?" 

She laughed. "I'm not hopeless at any rate. I can't compare to Clarence, though. No one at this school can, except _maybe_ Snape himself." 

"Before or after his transformation?" Severus asked, mock seriously. 

She rolled her eyes again. "After, of course. Not even Clarence could match him before." 

They entered the classroom a few moments later, and took a table together in the middle of the room. As she had promised, nobody seemed to think it odd that the Slytherin was sitting with a Gryffindor. The professor arrived not long after they did, and took roll call. This time no one threw a paper broom, which was just as well since there was no Clarence to yell at them. 

He directed them to page 231 of their book and started writing out the recipe to the Shrinking Potion on the board. Over the next two hours no less than three cauldrons exploded, two because of fillibuster fireworks. When there was little retaliation for the first one, the same culprit repeated his success. Since he was a Gryffindor, Severus did not point him out to the teacher when he ineffectually tried to find the perpetrator. 

Other potions were orange or some other color that was very definitely not the bright green it was supposed to be, and clearly wrong. Only Severus and Tryna and two other groups got it right. Once he finished, Severus tried to to help out some of the other Gryffindors, while Tryna moved among the Slytherins pointing out obvious mistakes. Between them they brought three more potions to fruitation, and the professor awarded both of them with ten points to their houses. 

Tryna grinned at him from across the room, "Hey, Matty, I think that's the first time since Snape's been a teacher that a Gryffindor _got_ points during potions." 

As they left together, at the end of the period, Severus asked, "Are they all that hopeless with Snape, too?" 

She shrugged, "Well, he does yell at us when we get it wrong rather than letting us suffer through the class thinking we're doing all right." 

Severus laughed. 

"And nobody would _dare_ throw a firework with him around." She smirked, "Though from what I understand, Clarence is putting the Fear of Snape into the classes he assists." 

"Oh?" Severus prompted, genuinely curious. 

"Ok, the Fear of Clarence, more like, since no proper Slytherin has any reason to have had the Fear of Snape before. I heard from Malcolm Baddock, a second year Slytherin, who heard from Jerry Something, another second year Slytherin, who had thrown a paper broomstick during roll call, that Clarence came up to him afterwards, and told him, and I quote, 'I took private lessons from Professor Snape for the last five years, I can harvest your eyes and fingers and pickle them in a jar if you ever disturb this class again. I recommend you remember this and inform all of your troublemaking friends that any misbehaviour will not be tolerated.'" 

"That's not been embellished at all?" Severus asked suspiciously, but grinned in amusement. 

She shrugged, "Well, Slytherins, you know. Maybe, maybe not. It's got a very Clarence-ring to it, though, when he tries for 'intimidating'. He can be quite good at it, when he wants to be. So I think your buddy over there," she jerked her chin toward the firework throwing Gryffindor, walking a bit ahead of them, "should be very thankful that Clarence has got Transfigurations this period." 

"You knew he did it? You're a Slytherin and you didn't turn him in?" 

She shrugged, "If the professor can't keep people from throwing fireworks in his class, he has no business being a professor and doesn't deserve help. Besides, Clarence is campaigning for a time-turner so he can come to all the classes. I figure he's got a better chance if Zmiya wants him around all the time." 

"I thought you didn't _want_ Clarence assisting for us?" 

She spread her hands, "He offered a box of chocolate frogs, plus immunity, if I'd sabotage the class. I gave your friend over there the fireworks and two frogs for taking the risk. When walking around, I messed up as many as I helped, dropping stuff in when they weren't looking. Gryffindor cauldrons, of course. I even managed to blow up one without using a fillibuster. Even Neville Longbottom didn't blow up the Shrinking Potion, I'm told." 

Severus blinked at her, and opened his mouth twice before saying, "You _are_ evil." 

She grinned, "Why, thank you, Matty." 

"Truly and completely and utterly _evil_." 

"I like you, too, Matty." 

* * *

_A/N: And of course, thanks for all your reviews, I greatly appreciate them all.   
  
SparkySparkles, I wasn't planning on any romances, though Sev-or-Matty/Katryna may come up depending on how long he stays a kid. But right now he's only twelve, and Harry and his lot are not my focus._


	17. Bad Dreams and Triplets

** Twelve Again  
Chapter Seventeen: Bad Dreams and Triplets **

  
  
Summary: After Professor Snape fails to return from a Death Eater meeting, Hagrid finds a young dark-haired boy who believes the year is still 1968. The victim of an experimental time-reversal potion, young Severus tries to adapt to a changed world without his parents, his familiar classmates, or his illusions that his life is his own.  
Spoilers: Through GoF, this takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places remain JK Rowlings'.   
  
  
Severus sat up suddenly in his bed. It was dark, and he knew even before checking the clock that it was very late, or early, depending on your point of view. Four in the morning, the dead hours after even insomniacs fall asleep and before the early risers rise. Severus doubted even Harry or Uncle Albus would be up at this hour, but he really needed to talk to someone about the dream that had woken him. Even Katryna would do. 

He found his way down to the common room, only making his finger glow once he was out of the third-year boys' room. As expected, no one was there, and the fire had burned down to smoldering ashes. He took his normal seat, facing the embers, and hoped that Harry, Ron, or Hermione would be the first to arrive that morning. As he impatiently waited, he decided Hermione was the preferred 'sibling' for this discussion. 

After only a few moments, he grew restless, and made his way his way up the the fifth-year girls' dorm. He held his fist in front of the door, then lowered it. He was halfway back down the stairs before he turned back, went right to the door and opened it without knocking. His mother would kill him if she ever found out about this, but, as she was dead, that wasn't going to happen. 

All of the girls were, understandably, asleep. The first pillow he approached supported a head with very dark hair that was divided into two messy braids. Definitely not Hermione. The second bed held the familiar tangled brown hair, and he shook her arm, whispering quietly, "Hermione, wake up." 

She mumbled something unintelligible - a rarety for her - and opened one bleary eye. "Matty?" she asked, clearly not a hundred percent sure of her identification at her current level of awareness. 

"Yeah. I had a bad dream." 

She sighed and rolled onto her back, closing her eyes. "What time is it?" she complained. Severus vaguely recalled he had gotten a similiar reaction out of his mother the last time he'd woken her up for the same reason. His father had then threatened bodily harm if he ever again stepped inside their bedchamber before the sun rose, and Severus had been very careful to observe this rule thereafter, since the man had obviously meant every word of it. 

"Four o'clock," he answered, in the matter-of-fact tone she tended to favor. 

She groaned. "Let's go downstairs then." 

Severus waited for her to roll out of bed and pull on some slippers before they left the girls room, and returned to the couch in front of the fire. Hermione took his normal spot, so he took Harry's. Assuming his usual pose of staring into the fire - well, embers now - he tried to gather his thoughts and organize his dream into understandable form. 

"I assume since you woke me up and dragged me down here, that you want to talk about it." Her logic still worked even at this hour. Though her tact was somewhat lacking. Severus didn't mind. 

"Yeah. It. . . It wasn't a dream, not really. It was, I was just . . . I think it was a memory." 

Hermione looked at him sharply, all traces of sleep gone. "A memory. What was it about?" 

"Well, there wasn't really much plot, just . . . scenes. Like, I wrote a big fat F on the top of a potions essay - Harry's, actually, and I felt very pleased with myself for doing that. Then, I was walking around Hogwarts after curfew, only it looked different. I found out why a few moments later, when I turned a corner and came upon Fred and George Weasley pulling up a floor tile. They were littler than they are now, too, maybe my age, twelve or thirteen. And I was really, really tall. I _towered_ over them. I gave them a week of detentions and took away fifty points from Gryffindor. Each." 

Hermione nodded. "Sounds like Professor Snape," she confirmed his suspicions. 

"The last one was the one that really scared me," Severus continued, staring into the dying embers. "I was standing in a fairly dark bedroom, lit only by the street lamps outside. It wasn't mine. Lucius - Draco's father - was with me. It wasn't his either. There was a man and a woman in the bed, and a muggle clock glowed red on the bedstand next to the man. It was 2:30 in the morning. That moment seemed to last forever. I was feeling . . . excited, like the night before Christmas when you know your parents are downstairs with Santa, wrapping your presents right that moment, while you try to sleep." 

Severus stole a glance at Hermione. She was watching and listening intently in that way only Hermione could do. He turned back to the barely burning ashes. "Then everything started moving again. I hit the muggle switch and the lights came on, waking up the man and woman. Lucius pointed his wand at the woman, and cast a body bind on her. I did the same on the man. Then we both cast . . . we both . . . Professor Snape and Lucius cast the crutacious on them, while they were petrified. They couldn't scream. They couldn't twist and thrash. They couldn't _move_. But they wanted to, you could see that they wanted to, so bad." He shuddered. "Then Snape and Lucius ended their curses, but not their binds. Snape changed his so that the man could move his head and face. He screamed. He screamed awfully. He looked at me with such terror and loathing. 

"Snape just looked back, feeling nothing but superiority and distain. That's when the little boy ran in. Snape hit him with the crutacius, too. The kid howled, and Snape just kept it on him, and he threw himself on the ground and flopped around, screaming and screaming. And Lucius and Snape just watched. The man on the bed was crying and begging them to leave the kid alone, but he was still petrified from the neck down and couldn't save his own son. And the boy died. They didn't even need to cast the killing curse, the pain was too much for him. He wasn't any older than five. 

"Lucius let the woman out of her bind then. She started screaming and crying at the same time. Lucius helped her sit up, to see the dead child. She cried harder, and Lucius sat beside her, and let her cry on his shoulder. It wasn't friendly, though. He put his arm around her, possessively like. Like how Voldemort touched me. Like he was claiming her." His calm broke then, and he started shaking. 

"Voldemort touched you?" Hermione asked, sounding worried and concerned and horrified. She put a hand on his upper arm, sympathetically and comfortingly. It was how he'd imagine his mother would react if she thought he was being forced to follow dark wizards against his will. And that thought brought the realization that his mother would never be there to hold him again. She wouldn't ever kiss him goodnight again, and she wouldn't ever yell at him again for not saying 'please' or 'excuse me'. He bit his lip, trying not to cry. Not now, not in front of Hermione. 

But the fifth-year girl pulled him into a hug, and whispered, "Oh, Severus," almost on the verge of tears herself. It reminded him of his mother's hugs. Drusella Snape would not hug anyone ever again. Severus began to cry softly, just leaking tears at first, then his breath began to hitch. Soon, he was truly sobbing into Hermione's nightgown. 

She rubbed his back and spoke softly in words he heard only as sounds without meaning. 

* * *

Hermione looked down at Severus as he slept, using her lap as a pillow. His cry had lasted only a few minutes before he had succumbed to sleep. For the first time, she saw his brown locks and freckled face and did not see a happy-go-lucky Gryffindor who only claimed to be Severus Snape. Until this morning, she had viewed him as 'Matty' in her mind. That image clashed grotesquely with the quiet, factual accounting of the most terrifying nightmare she could imagine, and even that did not seem to fit with the scared boy who had just cried himself to sleep in her embrace. 

Which was Severus truly? All of them? None of them? She brushed back a lock of brown hair that had fallen over his face. He looked peaceful now, what she could see of him, from her vantage point. She wondered how much sleep he had been getting lately, and another wave of pity and sorrow filled her. 

They sat like that for what seemed a very long time. Hermione was fairly certain her leg was asleep and would refuse to support her weight when she next stood up. The first Gryffindors to emerge from their dorms in the early morning light paid them little heed. Only when Fred and George arrived on the scene, did anyone approach them. 

"Hey, Gred," Fred called to his twin, though they were standing only a short distance apart. 

"Hey, what, Forge?" 

"Did you know Hermione had a new boyfriend?" 

George didn't have a chance to answer. Hermione shot them both her worst glares, and said in her best you-are-an-idiot voice, "Matty had a bad dream. Be quiet or you'll wake him." 

But Severus was already pulling himself away from her. He blinked blearily at the twins, rubbed his eyes, and blinked again. "Need glasses, I'm seeing double." 

The twins grinned widely. "Nah," George shrugged, his eyes twinkling, "You just think that. But you're right. You do need glasses - you _should_ be seeing triple." 

Fred nodded sagedly. "Fred, George, and Eugene, the Weasley Triplets, at your service." The twins gave syncronized bows. 

"Eugene?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows. 

"Hey! Don't knock our brother's name!" George jumped to 'Eugene's' defence. 

"I'm not," Severus told them, sounding very serious. "It's much better than Matty Groves." He smiled at a piece of air off of Fred's right. "Hello, Eugene." 

"Oh, we like him," George said, apparently to nobody. 

Fred nodded vigorously, then grinned wickedly, "Don't worry, we won't tell a _soul_ about the bad dreams and sleeping with Hermione thing." 

Hermione scowled at him, then switched it to George as he picked up the conversation, "Just Ron, and maybe Harry, oh, and we'd better send a letter to Victor Krum, and Ginny would love to hear about it -" 

Fred elbowed his twin in the side, and George swayed with it, more playing along than because it had any force behind it. "Hey! Matty's our friend and we said we'd keep it quiet. Won't we, Eugene?" 

Both twins and Severus looked at the previously designated 'Eugene spot'. As one, the three started nodding. Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. _Boys._

"See, Eugene agrees," Fred concluded. "The Weasley Triplets' lips are sealed." He nodded with finality. 

"Unless, of course, you _want_ us to start spreading rumours," George added, winking and nudging Fred. 

Hermione narrowed her eyes, and pressed her lips together. Severus just looked baffled. 

"Oi, Gred, 'Mione's got that I'm-about-to-hex-you-to-next-Thursday look on her face again." 

George glanced at her. "Well, Eugene wasn't feeling so well this morning, so we'll just bring him on down to the Hospital Wing now." The twins beat a hasty retreat. Severus began laughing. 

"What?" she asked him, not really thinking the Weasleys had done anything particularly amusing. 

It took a few moments for Severus to be stifle the chuckles enough to speak. "It's just Harry said he'd put me on the Hermione-list when it came to jokes, and I was just wondering what you _did_ to them when they fed you a Canary Cream." 

"I'll leave that to your imagination, then," she told him, not about to burst his no-doubt-amusing illusions with the boring truth. They fell into a companionable silence. She eventually broke it with, "Are you feeling better now?" 

He nodded, "Yeah. It helps to talk about it, sometimes." He hesitated, then asked, "I'm not going to be like him, am I? That's the worst part, really. Knowing that, in an alternate life, _that_ was _me_." 

"I don't think you'll ever be the Professor Snape or Death Eater Snape you saw in your dreams again," she told him honestly, after a long moment of consideration. "You've been through too much, now. That chapter is closed, and, as far as _you_ are concerned, never happened." 

Severus shook his head. "It happened. That's why I'm twelve now." 

Hermione smiled sadly at him, not arguing his logic. 

He justified himself anyway, "Because if it hadn't, I wouldn't've spied, and if I hadn't spied, I wouldn't have been forced to take that potion, and I hadn't taken the potion, I'd be thirty-nine and teaching. Or, probably not teaching, not as a professor. I might tutor Slytherins over the summer, though, that's a noble Snape tradition," he added, almost bitterly. 

It took Hermione somewhat by surprise that Severus had a family. Logically, she reprimanded herself, it was obvious that he must, but the Professor did not invite speculation into his private life and Matty had only occassionally mentioned his parents, and never for more than a passing remark his naming or some other such triviality. She had passed them off as inside jokes about his true identity, and hadn't really considered Mr. and Mrs. Snape at all. 

"Your parents tutor?" 

For a long moment, Hermione thought he wouldn't answer. "Father did. During the summer. Charms, he told the Ministry. Curses, really. Mum," he bit his lip briefly, then continued with an effort, "Mum teaches ettiquette. To pre-Hogwarts kids. Just ettiquette. Manners, and table-setting, and politeness, and all that cultured stuff." He sounded like he was trying to convince her of something, or, perhaps, trying to convince himself. "She's _nice_ and a _good person_." 

"She sounds very nice," Hermione agreed, because this seemed to be what he wanted to hear. Though, she did wonder why he felt the need to point it out. 

"The Aurors were wrong," he added quietly, barely loud enough for Hermione to hear. Her heart flopped. _No._ But Severus continued in that too-quiet voice, "She couldn't have been Dark. She was too Light." 

"What happened?" Hermione asked, almost not wanting to know. 

Severus stared straight ahead, into the dead ashes of the fireplace. "They killed her. My fourth year, the Headmaster said." 

_How awful,_ Hermione lamented, though she tried not to show it. Severus was doing a very good job of not-crying, and she didn't want to jeopardize it, not when they'd need to go down to breakfast soon. 

They were saved by the arrival of Ron and Harry. "Hey, Matty," Ron called out happily as they trampled down the last few stairs, "Ready to get Snape?" 

Severus smiled at him, though Hermione could tell it was rather forced. "Just a minute, need to get my books!" He bounded to his feet with all the enthusiasm of a twelve year old, and darted up the stairs, once again Gryffindor's favorite third year transfer student. He stopped on the third step and turned back, "Oh, Hermione! Will you help me with Arithmancy later? I missed the first few weeks, and I'm _completely_ lost." 

She nodded and smiled, glad to see that she wasn't the only Gryffindor who cared about their schoolwork, "Sure." Then Matty turned and was gone. 

"Hey, 'Mione, why are you still in your nightgown?" Ron asked abruptly. Hermione looked down at her attire, shrieked, and followed Matty's example, running up the stairs to her own dorm room. 

* * *

_A/N: Ok, overwhelming response is no Sev-Matty/Katryna, so there won't be. Wasn't planning it until a possible sequel set during Tryna's fifth or sixth year, and that'll only happen if Sev is still a kid and everyone has pretty much lost hope of him turning back. Hence the 'depending on how long he's a kid' clause. They weren't fated to have lasted much more than a month anyway. They're both too strong-willed. Right now, though, for those curious, I am leaning towards turning him back by the end of the school year. It just seems a nice, neat way to conclude the story, so the point's moot._


	18. Mistaken Views of the World

** Twelve Again  
Chapter Eighteen: Mistaken Views of the World **

  
  
Summary: After Professor Snape fails to return from a Death Eater meeting, Hagrid finds a young dark-haired boy who believes the year is still 1968. The victim of an experimental time-reversal potion, young Severus tries to adapt to a changed world without his parents, his familiar classmates, or his illusions that his life is his own.  
Spoilers: Through GoF, this takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places remain JK Rowlings'.   
  
  
It had been two weeks since her first 'session' with Severus. He had scowled at her at lunch today, when she told him she had arranged with Professor Zmiya and Clarence to get the potions room for them again. She felt rather bad about it, but an appeal to the Auror that always hovered several feet away from Severus had cinched the appointment. The pair were almost _too_ easy to manipulate. If one was against something, you just had to look at the other. 

She arrived early, to set up her 'office'. Clarence was still there, pouring over a potions book that probably belonged either to Snape or Zmiya. He had long since memorized every word of his own potions books. "Heard you got the time turner," she greeted him. 

He looked up, and grinned. "Yeah, Marlo - er, Professor Zmiya - was nearly as happy as me." 

She dropped her psychology books down on the desk beside him, the loud thud echoing against the stone walls. "Whaccha reading?" 

He used a finger to save his page, and mostly closed the book so she could read the title; _A Treatise on the Properties of Elephant Blood_. "Had to owl-order it. Just came in." 

Katryna laughed, "I bet you're abusing your time-turner priviledges so you can finish it." 

Clarence shrugged, blushing slightly. "No one would take that bet. Not even Valr on long odds." He made an obvious attempt to change the subject by waving at her own books. "What's all this?" 

"I told you about my housemate whose parents died, right?" 

Clarence nodded. 

"Well, I got him to agree to talk to me about it again. That's why I needed the room." 

"Ever consider doing the same for your yearmate? Matty Groves' parents just died, too." 

Tryna's eyes lit up. "Oooooo. Group therapy!" Then her expression fell. "But no. They hate each other. It's worse than Malfoy and Potter." She knew the words were a mistake as soon as they left her mouth. The whole school knew about the war-time conditions that surrounded Matty Groves and Severus Snape whenever they were within shouting distance of each other. 

"It's Professor Snape," her most brilliant brother deduced, without a shred of doubt. "The poor sucker you've been bullying is Professor Snape! Tryna!" By his horrified and scandalized tone, one would think she had admitted to eloping with Voldemort. 

"I'm _helping_ him," she told him with dignity. 

"You don't even _know_ psychology!" 

"You didn't have a problem with me doing this when he was just some random Slytherin kid!" 

"Because that was just some random Slytherin kid! How much more messed up could he get?" 

Tryna looked down at her brother, raising an eyebrow and smirking, her own point made. 

Clarence found a real bookmark, and slammed his book closed, a sign of extreme anger and agitation for her book-revering brother. "Tree, he's a _professor_! He'll remember this when he gets back to normal!" 

Tryna shrugged, unconcerned. "So he'll either appreciate my efforts to turn him from the dark side, or he'll have me expelled. Gran's been wanting me to go to Durmstrang, anyway." 

"Well, that's enough reason right there to want to stay here." 

Tryna rolled her eyes. "Just because she doesn't acknowledge your existence doesn't mean she's evil." 

Clarence snorted, not believing it for a second. "No, but the stink of Dark Arts in her house does." 

She looked at him sharply. "How would you know? You've never been allowed there." 

He shrugged. "Menteron and I were curious. We flooed there one night. Even if she doesn't admit it, we _are_ Tragyls, and the wards let us in." 

"What did you see?" Tryna asked, unable to keep the curiousity at bay. 

"Enough to know to steer well clear of her." His green eyes met hers, and held her gaze with unusual somberness. "Watch yourself around her, Katryna." If the gravity of his expression hadn't clued her in of his absolute sincerity, his use of her full first name did. "You're more at risk than any of the rest of us Weasley-infected Tragyls." 

"Risk of _what_?" she asked, starting to get freaked out by the direction of the conversation. 

Clarence sighed. "If Snape - in his current mistaken views of the world - asks you come with him to Voldemort, you will say no, right?" 

She couldn't _believe_ he had asked her that. Of all the - surely he knew her better than that! "Clarence!" she cried, insulted and outraged. "Get out of here!" She pointed at the door. "Severus will be here soon." She fumed, glaring at him, as he gather his books and beat a retreat, sending her several worried looked that she couldn't interpret in her anger. Only when he was gone, and she had calmed sufficiently to perform her transfigurations, did she realize that she never answered his question. _No,_ the thought chased her brother out the door. _I'm still Mum's daughter, even if I am Gran's favorite._

After all, _she_ knew as well as Clarence did that Severus would remember this when he got big again. As soon as he was, he'd return to his sensibilities, and tell Dumbledore all about her Grandmother. Even Tryna herself might be put under suspicion. She had, after all, been privy to the information for years and hadn't told anyone except Severus, and him only when she had believed him a Death Eater himself. 

But her purpose was to help her friend and professor, and the consequences would fall where they would. He had been nice to her, that first day after his change, and she firmly believed that the polite boy she had briefly met still lurked under the prickliness of confinement and suspicion. She didn't think he was Death Eater material, and if the only way to prove that too him was to pester him about his parents and to build his trust by making herself seem more Death Eater friendly than she was (which was, admittedly, more Death Eater friendly than any of the rest of her nuclear family put together), then so be it. 

Her only question, as she rearranged the potions classroom for her 'session', was to wonder why Clarence hadn't spilled what _he _knew of Gran's activities already. She eventually decided, sinking down into the plush green armchair that she made for herself, that he simply didn't have enough to warrant going to anyone. He had, after all, suggested it would be Severus, not Gran, who made the invitation. 

The playing up to her that Tryna had been doing lately, to get information about Severus's potion, probably wasn't helping her I'm-good-little-girl-and-would-never-do-such-a-thing image, either. 

She had just finished surveying her domain for anything out of place when Severus and Auror Fletcher arrived. Without instruction, she noted with a smile, each took their same spot as last time. The books she had read were right: people are creatures of habit. 

She raised the sound barrier around them, and sat back in her armchair. "So, did you find out about your parents?" 

He met her gaze almost defiantly. "They were killed by Aurors." 

Tryna tried not to flinch. That really shouldn't have been unexpected, based on what her Grandmother had said of them. And it sort of explained how the old witch would know of their death. 

"Happy?" 

Psychologist. She was a psychologist. "How does that make you feel?" she asked, ignoring his question. 

He blinked at her, then glowered. "How do you suppose it makes me feel?" 

She seriously considered this question. "Upset. Probably betrayed. Angry. Possibly at the Ministry, possibly at whomever told you, possibly at your parents themselves. Possibly all of those." 

"You forgot Voldemort," Severus muttered quietly, and she looked at him sharply. He was still glaring at her. She wondered if he realized he had spoken aloud. 

"Possibly Voldemort, even," she added, and watched his reaction carefully. A flicker of surprise flashed through his black eyes, but was quickly surpressed. No, he hadn't meant to say that out loud at all. 

He was angry with Voldemort. Excitement surged through her. Perhaps this was her chance to turn him back to where he should be. She would need to tread very carefully. Best to come at it obliquely. 

"Have you had any other memories surface?" 

He hesitated, thus answering her question. 

"You did. Great," she smiled brightly. "What did you remember?" 

"Fred and George, and their canary creams." 

Katryna grinned, amusement lighting her pale blue eyes. "That must've been interesting." 

Severus snorted, "Nearly gave myself away to Ha- Quite. Very interesting." What had he been about to say? 

Ha- probably a name. Harris? No, it was someone he was talking to. But Severus only spoke to her. Oh, and Clarence sometimes talked to him during potions. But Clarence had known about the memory hiccups. She'd told him about them after Severus had mentioned Harris that first day after his arrest. And Clarence had told the former professor that he knew about them. So what had he almost given away and to whom? Ha- Harry? No. Couldn't be Harry Potter. Potter was around Matty more often than not lately, and any confrontation betweeen them would have been hex-laden, and would not have brought up thoughts of Fred and George. 

Or could they have? Fred and George weren't exactly innocent Gryffindors. They weren't big on hexing, but they were quite good with pranks, vicious as well as harmless. 

Playing the hunch, she asked, "So Harry didn't notice your slip?" 

Severus just looked blankly at her. "Harry?" he asked. 

Blast. Either he was a better liar than the majority of her brothers (excepting Valr, and maybe Clarence when he had a mind to lie), or he really didn't know what she was talking about. Conversation needs a new direction. 

"Any other memories pop up?" 

He hesitated again. This time she didn't prompt him, something told her that doing so would be a bad idea. They sat in silence for what seemed a very long time. Tryna was about to change the subject again, when he started talking. 

"I had a few dreams. Sometimes, I'm the Professor in them. Sometimes, sometimes I'm . . . not." 

Paydirt. Tryna would not have interrupted him now if the building was falling down around them. 

"The ones where I'm grading papers, or catching students out of bed are the happy ones." He paused, and Tryna waited, barely breathing. "Some of them are before that though. From when I, when he was a, a real Death Eater." 

'From when I, when he,' Tryna repeated within her mind. '_When he_.' He's seperating himself from the older version, the one that was a 'real Death Eater'. When she owled her about her new 'housemate, her grandmother had mentioned that the Professor had been one in truth once, and that he turned traitor and spy. But Severus the Younger, despite the auror and the rumours, apparently did not consider himself a 'real Death Eater.' 

"Was it awful?" she half-whispered, almost afraid to speak, for fear of scaring him away. 

A fear well-founded. His expression closed, and he looked at her with absolutely no emotions on his face. "We do as our lord wishes." 

No! She'd been so close. Maybe Clarence was right. Maybe she was just making things worse. "What do _you_ wish?" she asked, almost in desperation. 

His answer was immediate. "I wish to be out of this school and away from that man," a glare shot its way towards Fletcher, and she really couldn't blame him. The Auror was never far from his side, radiating hatred and malevolence. 

"Where would you go?" she asked quietly. 

He shrugged, but he looked toward her, searchingly, as if seeking her ulterior motive in asking. "To Voldemort, most likely," he answered without shame. 

Her stomach twisted. That he could so easily admit that to anyone, even someone whose loyalties he was uncertain about, even someone who admitted to knowing their grandmother was a Death Eater, it wasn't a good sign. 

"Why do you tell me that? _You're_ not my kin. I could drop the sound barriers right now and tell Fletcher." 

Severus shrugged. "You don't think Fletcher doesn't know that? It's the Headmaster and the Headmaster only keeping me out of Azkaban. He suffers the delusion that since I turned once, I'll do it again." 

Katryna trusted the Headmaster. Her mother was a Weasley, and spoke most highly of him. Even her father didn't have anything bad to say of him. But for him to turn again, he needed to be exposed to what sent him away the first time. Slowly, she came to a decision. "I'll get you out." 

He blinked. "You'll what?" 

"I'll get you away from the school, and Fletcher, and you can go where you will." _Oh, please, Professor, when you're grown-up again, please don't expel me. Please, don't send me to prison. I have only good intentions._ "I'll send a letter to Gran, she'll let Voldemort know when to expect your escape. Is three days from now good, or do you want to wait longer?" 

He still looked a bit stunned. "That'll be fine." 

She checked her watch, and decided to end the session now. "Well, it's almost time for curfew. I'll contact you tomorrow to give you details about my plan. I'm dropping the sound barrier now." She did as she claimed, and looked at Severus again. "Good night, and I'm sorry about your parents." 

He just nodded, and waved for Fletcher to follow him out of the room. Tryna watched them leave, wondering if the pair realized that they had fallen into the pattern of expecting the other to be there. This might be more difficult than she had first anticipated. Well, the auror had to sleep _sometime_, didn't he? 

* * *

_A/N: There is NOT any Sev/Hermione - the twins were just teasing. In fact, there is not going to be any Sev/Anybody. He sees the Dream team as his big brothers and sister, Tryna as a frightening complecation to his Severus role (though, she sees him as a friend, a __troubled_ friend, but a friend), Clarence suffers from hero worship, and Voldemort's just spooky. I don't want to give anything away about what I plan between Voldemort and Severus, but you can trust that there will be no slash. 


	19. Forty Eight Hours a Day

** Twelve Again  
Chapter Nineteen: Forty-Eight Hours a Day **

  
  
Summary: After Professor Snape fails to return from a Death Eater meeting, Hagrid finds a young dark-haired boy who believes the year is still 1968. The victim of an experimental time-reversal potion, young Severus tries to adapt to a changed world without his parents, his familiar classmates, or his illusions that his life is his own.  
Spoilers: Through GoF, this takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places remain JK Rowlings'.   
  
  
Severus all but fled Katryna's 'office'. He had to tell Dumbledore. He had to tell Harry. He had to plan. He was going to spy again. The last two weeks had been fun, but it was time to go back to his mission. If anything, he was more relieved than scared now. Schoolwork just hadn't had the same appeal as it had before the time shift. Sure, the essays were still a challenge, but writing about boggarts just didn't seem to be as useful as it once had. 

Truthfully, the best part about his classes was the challenge of keeping Matty and Severus straight in his head. Which one was supposed to turn in the paper about the accio charm, and which was supposed to turn in the paper about the warming charm? Once, he'd been sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall writing up an essay on the effects of batwings in the hair removal potion, when Katryna dropped down across from him and starting asking about the same potion. He had discreetely hidden his own paper, and changed the name at the top when she left. 

He'd had a tight spot when McGonagall had confronted Matty Groves about having the same handwriting as Severus Snape, but a bout of fake tears, and handwriting sample, and a demonstration of his knowledge of the subject proved that it was just a coincidence. By that point, it was too late to change Matty's handwriting, so he just hoped nobody else would notice or that they pass it off as coincidence as easily as McGonagall had. He did start making small differences between the two, though. Being the nicer and more considerate one, he gave Matty the neater version. Relatively neater, anyway. Harry had informed him that even as a teacher, his writing had been the next thing to illegible. 

Severus wondered if that should have been _especially_ as a teacher, once he had gotten a look at one of the potions essays Harry had gotten back. In his opinion, even Severus's handwriting was infinitely better than that scrawl of red. 

By the time Severus reached the lonely room that served as Severus's bedchamber and cell, he was almost out of breath from walking so quickly. He glanced around to be sure no one was nearby before abruptly telling the auror, "Come in." It was a change from the normal routine, but not new. "We need to talk to the Headmaster again." 

Fletcher entered with only a raised eyebrow. When the door was securely closed, locked, and sealed against eavesdropping. Severus made a beeline to the floo powder. He changed his appearance to Matty's as his hand passed over his face as it lowered from the mantle over the fireplace. He tossed the powder in and called out "Headmaster's office!" and stepped into the flames. 

The Headmaster's office was empty of guests. Only Dumbledore and Fawkes were present. Severus smiled at the bird as he stepped away from the fireplace, making room for Fletcher's entrance. "Hi, Fawkes, Uncle Albus," he greeted them easily. 

"Hello, child," Dumbledore greeted him back. His 'uncle' had taken him to calling him 'child' most of the time. Severus guessed it was because he wasn't sure what he was supposed to called his adopted child - his adopted child's name, or his adopted child's real name. Only when the young wizard wore Severus's face did the Headmaster call him by name. 

"Mr. Fletcher's coming," Severus gave warning only a moment before it became obvious. 

"Hello, Mundungus," Dumbledore welcomed the auror warmly. 

"Albus," Fletcher nodded back. "Snape wanted to say something." 

Both adults turned toward him, and by their momentarily surprised looks, they hadn't expected him to switch faces again while their attention was turned. 

"Is something wrong, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, already starting to sound worried. 

"Not _wrong_ exactly," Severus answered, taking one of the comfortable chairs facing the Headmaster's desk. "Unless you count Katryna Tragyl being a Dark Lord supporter as something wrong." 

"It is wrong," the Headmaster disagreed immediately, "You must be mistaken. None on Waltr and Keri's children would do that." 

Severus shook his head, certain of the girl's loyalties at last. He spoke his proof very clearly. "In three days time, she will have been responible for Severus Snape's escape from Hogwarts." He sat back in the chair and watched his 'uncle.' 

Dumbledore's face was set in disbelief, but slowly sadness and disappointment mixed into it. Severus was secretly glad that, for once, those emotions were not caused by him. Then consternation crowded out all three. "Severus Snape's escape? You intend to return to Voldemort, then?" 

Severus nodded, half afraid Dumbledore would veto it. As Matty's guardian, the old wizard almost had the right to do so. "I have to, sir! Katryna is getting a message to him so he knows to expect me!" 

The Headmaster winced as if from a blow. "She is corresponding directly to Voldemort?" 

"Kind of. Sort of. Not really. She's using her grandmother to get the message to him." 

"I _knew_ it!" Both Dumbledore and Severus looked over at the auror, almost having forgot he was present. "That woman's a Death Eater, too. I tried to tell my captain, when we took in her husband, but there wasn't anything on her." 

"Actually," Severus said, "Tryna insists her grandfather was actually innocent." 

The auror snorted. "Innocent. That bastard told the whole court that he wished Voldemort had killed his own son and grandchildren." 

Severus made a face. "Ok, 'innocent' might be a bit strong. 'Not a Death Eater,' then." 

The auror made an unconvinced sound, but Severus wasn't interested in clearing the man's name, so he let it drop. "Matty's going to have to get really sick. Either taken away to St. Mungo's, or put in Isolation here. What might keep him there for an unknown length of time, though?" 

"Except for some serious Quiddich injuries, or Basilisk petrifications, most people are out of the hospital wing in only a day." 

Severus barely heard him. His mind was whirling with the two things he knew better than everyone else his age. Curses and potions. Almost every curse had a fairly simple counter curse. The exceptions were the Unforgivables but he wasn't about to hit himself with a crucio just to get Matty sent to the Hospital for a few days. Especially since Matty would need to _stay_ in the Hospital for a few days. 

Potions then. Some non-fatal poison that lasts a long time, but there is no known antidote to. Something he could easily fake the symptoms of. All Severus would have to do was taunt Matty with the fact that he had _already_ been poisoned, and that was what was happening to him, as the effects started to take hold. The wandless disguising charm that he had perfected over the last two and a half weeks could be invaluable here. 

"Melting poison," he decided. "Painful, looks awful. Matty can understandably insist nobody come to see him. Incurable until it runs its course on its own. Madam Pomphrey can treat the symptoms so his face doesn't fall off, but that'll make him nausous and exhausted. He'll be out of classes for days or weeks. The affliction length is variable, depending on the dosage. With just a few drops, it'll only be a few hours, but if he gets more, it could be months. You, Harry, Ron, and Hermione can be allowed to visit but nobody else. Madam Pomphrey will have to be let into my secret, though. If Katryna needs a distraction, it'll serve for that, too. You can't do better than someone's skin stretching into grotesque patterns to draw people's attention." 

Even Fletcher looked impressed by the plan. 

"Obviously, Severus is going to take the blame, but he'll have disappeared in the confusion. He might even hit Auror Fletcher with a stupify while his guard is momentarily distracted by the commotion at the Gryffindor table, giving Severus and Tryna time to get out and away," Severus continued. 

Fletcher looked about to protest, but Severus spoke over him, "We need to get away from you, and it seems more likely we can do that if you're unconscious." 

"You may _try_, but that chase will be real." 

Severus shrugged. Then he abruptly brought his knuckles against the heel of his other hand, as he had practiced with Remus, and the man dropped unconscious to the floor. "Not a problem, sir." 

"Severus," the Headmaster said warningly. 

Severus lowered his head momentarily. "Sorry, sir." He looked at the fallen auror. "_Envenerate!_" 

Fletcher stirred, and climbed back to his feet. When he looked at Severus, the boy was surprised to see a trace of fear in those hard brown eyes. The same fear he had seen in both Black and Remus when they had seen him perform wandless magic. And Remus had even been warned beforehand. His lessons with his former schoolmate and current professor were going well except in one respect: When he got something right, Severus had come to expect nervous silence and a nod instead of praise. One would think the alleged werewolf would have gotten used to it by now. So much for him being a big scary magical creature, getting scared by a little wandless magic. 

"He is still human, Mundungus," the headmaster said, apparently out of nowhere. Severus was confused by the statement. Who was still human? Remus? But the two of them weren't privy to his thoughts, so why would Remus get brought up? 

"No human child - no human forty-year-old, for that matter - can do that!" 

Oh. He was still the topic of conversation. 

"Severus, didn't I tell you not to do that in front of people?" Dumbledore chided gently. 

"Yes, Headmaster," he answered, looking like the guilty schoolboy he was. And he did feel regret. Even though he trusted Fletcher not to tell Voldemort about his ability, he didn't really _trust_ him. The man hated him, after all. Revealing a secret like that was pretty stupid, for just a few moments of fun. He looked up suddenly. "Clarence doesn't know!" 

Both adults looked lost by the non-sequitor. "Doesn't know what, child?" 

"About," he waved his hand around to indicate the wandless magic, then flicked on the lumos spell to further demonstrate, "_this._ For the potion." At their continued blank expressions, he added, "He's making an antidote." 

Understanding nods met this clarification. "Ah," Dumbledore said. 

"He knows about the other side effects, but not this one." 

"I would advise you not to tell him," the Headmaster said after a few moments' consideration. 

"But that could jeopardize the effectiveness of the antidote!" 

"Severus," Dumbledore began, and Severus had never seen him look more solemn. "I want you to think about this _very_ carefully. Do you _want_ an antidote? You know some of what your life was like before." 

Severus opened his mouth to say that, yes, of course, he wanted to be grown-up again, but then he stopped. 

"Take your time, Severus, and _think_ about it. Think long and hard on it." 

Severus nodded. "I will," he promised. 

"Good, now why don't we get Poppy in her and explain the deception she must take part in." 

Severus nodded again as Dumbledore went to the fire place to ask if she could come up to his office at her earliest convenience. She promised she'd be right there, and a moment later, she had stepped out of the flames. 

She appeared mildly surprised to see Severus in the Headmaster's office without a scowl on his face, but she pleasantly said hello to all present. Severus politely returned the greeting, garnering himself another odd look. Severus sighed, and by so doing, apparently claimed control of opening the discussion. All three were looking at him, Dumbledore and Fletcher expectantly, Madam Pomphrey curiously. 

"Well, I guess I'll start at the top. You know I wanted to be a spy, right?" 

She blinked, then understanding filled her features, and she smiled at him as though he had just told her she was his long-lost mother. "I knew you couldn't be so bad as you were acting!" Severus was more than a little astonished when she swept him into a hug. Then just as suddenly, she pulled away, and crossed her arms. "But that still doesn't justify what you've done to poor Matty these past few weeks!" 

Severus didn't even try to surpress the smirk this remark generated. Her scowled deepened, but he just raised a hand - "Severus!" the headmaster's surprisingly sharp voice froze him in mid-movement. He glanced in startlement toward the old wizard, who was tapping his wand against his desk. Wand! Right! It had been so long since he'd used the wand for this transformation, that he'd completely forgotten about the very recent lesson about revealing secrets. Though, he would trust Madam Pomphrey equally as far as he would the Headmaster. 

He pulled out his own ebony wand and cast the spells, once he remembered what the appropriate words were. "Actually, Madam Pomphrey, I treated Matty no different than I would myself." It was somewhat disappointing that she looked to the Headmaster before believing him. 

"It's true, Poppy, Matty and Severus are one and the same person." Severus gave her what he privately called 'Matty's manipulative 'cute' smile' when she turned back to look at him. Dumbledore continued, "He has a time turner so he can be in two places at once." 

He looked at his watch and confirmed, "Right now I am also in the Gryffindor Common Room, doing my Arithmancy homework with Hermione's help, or, at least, that's what I plan to be doing now. She said she'd help me at eight-thirty." He held his wand to his temple again, and switched back to Severus. "Anyway, why we needed to tell you this. In three days, I'm going back to him." At her look of confusion, he tried to explain, "You know. Him." Severus didn't really know what to called him. 'Voldemort' seemed too informal. 'Lord Voldemort,' too respectful. 'Mr. Voldemort' was just plain weird. 

"You-Know-Who?" Madam Pomphrey asked fearfully. Which was exactly why he wouldn't used that form of address either. It sounded too scared of him. 

"Yes. I'm going to spy on him in three days, but I need to do something about Matty, because he can't just disappear without a trace at the same time Severus does. It would be suspicious." The mediwitch nodded agreement, though she frowned slightly when he spoke of himself in the third person. He'd gotten used to that reaction, though, so he plunged on. "So Severus is going to poison Matty. Melting poison. He'll be stuck in the Hospital wing for as long as he has to be. Only visitors will be the Headmaster, Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Matty won't want anybody else to see him like that." 

"Melting poison! No, Severus!" 

"I won't actually take any! I'll fake the symptoms, then when everyone leaves me alone, I'll switch to Severus, timeturn back, and get out of there." 

Madam Pomphrey shook her head, "You can't fake -" she stopped, though, when Severus touched his face and the skin started to sag alarmingly. Her eyes widened, and she dug frantically into the carry bag that she never left the Hospital Wing without. 

Severus ended the illusion, and said calmly, "I can fake it." She looked up again, and his face was normal once more. "Facial illusion is my best spell these days. I've cast it every four hours, forty-eight hours a day, seven days a week, two and a half weeks running now, excepting when I'm asleep." 

"Albus, that amount of time-turner use is not healthy on a child." 

Severus pressed his lips together. "Good thing I'm going away in three days, then, huh?" 

He was soundly ignored, "Unhealthy how, Poppy?" 

"It could seriously unbalance his physical and mental - oh." The mediwitch blushed. "He's already unbalanced in that respect. It might actually help him. If he continues using a time turner on that scale, he could, after a number of years, considerably narrow the gap between how old he _is_ and how old he _should be_. An hour lived is an hour grown, regardless of whether two of those hours happen to be the same one." She looked at Severus severely, "I hope you are getting a corresponding increase in your sleeping habits, or you might not grow as tall as you did the first time." 

Severus sighed. "Guess I should get used to being the short one, then." 

* * *

_A/N: Reviews as always appreciated!_


	20. Not a Dark Witch

** Twelve Again  
Chapter Twenty: Not a Dark Witch **

  
  
Summary: After Professor Snape fails to return from a Death Eater meeting, Hagrid finds a young dark-haired boy who believes the year is still 1968. The victim of an experimental time-reversal potion, young Severus tries to adapt to a changed world without his parents, his familiar classmates, or his illusions that his life is his own.  
Spoilers: Through GoF, this takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places remain JK Rowlings'.   
  
  
Katryna Tragyl watched nervously as Severus approached Matty Groves. Severus hadn't told her all of the details of his 'distraction', but she doubted it would be terribly pleasant for Matty. Which she felt bad about because she actually liked her potions lab partner. He wasn't nearly as hopeless in the subject as most of the Gryffindors, or even most of the Slytherins. She wasn't quite ready to admit his average was higher than _hers_ but it was bloody close. And he was _fun_. It had taken almost two weeks to get Clarence his timeturner, and Matty had been _most_ helpful in sabotaging the class. 

This was hardly the way to pay him back for his friendship. 

Katryna told herself that Severus would have probably done something unpleasant to him anyway. Or so she tried, until she saw her classmate's face start to melt. Other students started screaming, and Katryna pulled on all of her reserves to tear her eyes away from the repulsive sight. As distractions go, it was brilliant, the Slytherin part of her brain cheered, as it instructed her wand hand to rise and cast _stupify_ at the Auror. 

The Gryffindor part of her brain called her twenty kinds of slime for being an accomplice to this. 

She didn't watch for the Auror to fall, only slipped her wand back into her robes and slid silently away from the crowd. Severus would meet her in the charms classroom where she had secreted her Nimbus 2002 just outside the window. Hovering there, since the classroom was on the second floor. She had no sooner opened the window and pulled the broomstick inside when Severus arrived. 

"Here," she said, turning over the broom. "Fletcher's an Auror, and he might not stay stunned long. You'd better go quickly." 

He nodded silently and mounted the broom. 

"Remember, Dumbledore will forgive you when you realize this is a mistake," she added, before he could take off. She'd said _when_ rather than _if_ to bolster her own conscience. But after today's display with Matty, it was an increasingly small hope that she wasn't just sending out another Death Eater into the world. 

He gave her an odd look, but nodded. 

"Bye. Good luck!" she called after him as he kicked off, and flew threw the window, making a beeline toward the Forest. When he disappeared from view, she turned her steps to the gargoyle behind which her older brothers told her was the Headmaster's office. Not knowing the password, she sat down beside it to wait. 

The first one to arrive after her was a furious looking, enverated Auror Fletcher. Her stomach twisted in guilt. She, Katryna Tragyl, had stunned an Auror in the escape of a known Death Eater from custody. With difficulty, she swallowed back the lump of fear in her throat. Oh, she was soo dead. His gaze fell on her, and somehow she _knew_ he knew what she'd done. "I'm sorry," she whispered, starting to shake. 

He grabbed a handful of her robes, just over her shoulder, and pulled her to her feet. Without a word, he roughly grabbed her left wrist and shoved her sleeve back. 

The Dark Mark. He was looking for the Dark Mark. On her. Her shaking intensified. "I'm not a Dark Witch," she told him in a scared voice, knowing he had every reason to doubt her. She was a Slytherin. Her Grandfather was in Azkaban for the self-same crime. She was friends with Severus and had helped him go to Voldemort. What _wasn't_ against her? (Oh, no, I can't be a Dark Witch, my mother was a Weasley. That'll go over well.) Even if she did live through this without getting sent to Azkaban or expelled, she wasn't ever going to be trusted again. 

The auror grunted, confirming her fears. 

He spoke the password "Gumdrops" and pushed her onto the spiraling stairwell. It was just as well, she was shaking bad enough that she doubted her legs would hold her weight without his hold on her. 

Terror seized her when the stepped into the office proper and she saw Headmaster Dumbledore looking at her. He wasn't at all happy or grandfatherly looking right now. She backed away, but only managed to bump into the Auror. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she repeated, not quite crying, but not far from it. She wasn't sure what, exactly, she was apologizing for. Aside from what happened to Matty, which wasn't her fault, there wasn't anything that she'd change if she could go back to fix things. 

Still, that was what was bothering her the most. "Is Matty going to be all right?" 

The Headmaster's blue eyes seemed to flay her and read every transgression on her heart. If she wasn't backed up against Fletcher, with his hand grasped around her upper arm, she might have tried to flee. "Matty could be in the hospital wing for months, Miss Tragyl. There is no cure for the poison he was given." 

Katryna flinched visibly, and made a conscious effort not to start crying. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Please, believe me, I had no part in that." She wasn't sure who she was trying to convince more. Dumbledore, Fletcher, or herself. 

"Then why are you apologizing for it?" Dumbledore asked, the weight of those blue eyes making her feel like she was getting buried under tons and tons of snow. 

She felt the auror's grip tighten in anticipation of her answer. "Because I instigated the events leading to it. Severus wouldn't have done something so obvious if it weren't for the distraction needed for _my_ plan." 

"And which plan was this?" 

Katryna bit her lower lip. Here it was. The point where she gets sent to Azkaban to meet her Grandfather for the first time. But she wasn't half Gryffindor for nothing. "The one to get Severus back to Voldemort," she answered honestly, flinching a little at the dark lord's name. 

"That was your plan." 

She nodded, too frightened to speak again. The auror's hand was almost tight enough to cut off circulation in her arm. 

"Why, Miss Tragyl?" 

This was her one chance to avoid prison. "Because he needed to. Because he wasn't going to turn back to the right side by being trapped here where every foul look he gets just convinces him that he's already lost. Because he can't find the thing that turned him back to the light without going to the dark. Because I trust you and you say he'll turn back again. Because Severus isn't bad. Because Clarence looks up to him. Because Clarence won't have the cure for a while. Because it's not our right to make Severus's decisions for him, even if he's already made them once. Because Severus _isn't_ Professor Snape. He's nicer, and he's grief-stricken, and he's confused. But he can't work it out _here_. You can't _make_ someone be good by punishing them like you have been. Epiphanies don't happen without new data." 

"You consider yourself to be on the side of light in this, do you, Miss Tragyl?" 

She closed her eyes. "I hope so." Opening them again, she met Dumbledore's chill blue gaze and stood straighter. "I am not a Dark Witch, sir. I am not a follower of Voldemort." 

"And yet you do not report Dark Wizards or Witches when you find them, and you actively help in their escape." The cold words rumbled from close behind her, rather than from Dumbledore. 

She frowned. "You already knew Severus was a Death Eater. You were the one who started that rumour, Auror. And I already gave you my reasons for helping him." 

"You know of no others?" Fletcher asked disbelievingly. 

She knew fidgeting would only make her look guilty. This wasn't just a prank she had been caught at, this was real life and the stakes were death or Azkaban. This wasn't her mother and father judging her. It was Headmaster Dumbledore and an honest-to-Merlin Auror. She fidgeted. "No. No others," she lied. When Severus turned good, both herself and her Grandmother would be lost, but she _couldn't_ directly betray the old witch. Gran _trusted_ her. And so did the handful of students who had either accidently or on purpose led her to believe or know that their loyalties laid in the darker regions of the world. 

"Miss Tragyl," the Headmaster said, warning clear in his voice. He must have seen through her admittedly poor job of lying. 

Feeling cornered, desperate, and put upon, she snapped in a sudden pique of anger, "Yes, I do, alright? But I'm not telling. Unlike Professor Snape, I don't betray my friends!" Her eyes widened in terror, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. Oh, Merlin. Oh, Merlin. Not only had she admitted to helping Death Eaters, but now she was calling Snape a traitor in front of Dumbledore. Her shaking, which had begun to subside, returned full force. "I didn't mean it that way," she whispered, voice and eyes pleading that Dumbledore understand. 

The Headmaster sighed, almost in defeat. "Miss Tragyl, I am going to call in your parents and Head of House." 

"I haven't a Head of House," she said, still whispering. Her heart pounded in horror and fear. She was about to be expelled and Professor Snape wasn't even here to defend her. 

Dumbledore frowned. "Professor Zmiya -" 

"- Isn't my Head of House. Professor Snape is. Failing him, Clarence." 

The Headmaster blinked. "Clarence?" 

She nodded. "Since Professor Snape ceased being a Professor, a lot of Slytherins have brought complaints that they'd normally bring to Snape to Clarence. He's a Prefect and can usually help. When he can't, he goes to Flitwick in our behalf. His nickname in the Snake's Den - and now the rest of the school - isn't Snape Junior for nothing, sir." 

"A sixth year Ravenclaw prefect," Dumbledore began in wonder, the faint stirrings of his normal demeanor returning. "Whose other half is a Gryffindor. Is the unofficial Acting Head of Slytherin House." 

Tryna shrugged. "He doesn't favour us like Snape did, but he is impartial. Even in those rare occassions when the dispute is with Ravenclaw." 

"So you would like Clarence here in addition to your parents and Professor Zmiya." 

The welcome distraction was short lived. She squeezed her eyes closed and curled as much into a fetal position as Fletcher's restraining hold allowed. She nodded jerkily, her straight, white blond hair falling forward to hide her face. Dumbledore invited her into one of the chairs while she waited, but she didn't think Fletcher would willingly release her, not after loosing Severus, so she wordlessly declined with a shake of her head. 

Clarence arrived first. He smiled at Dumbledore, "I came as soon as Clarence Take 3 popped into existance beside me. Zmiya should be up in a little while once Take 3 convinces him he can handle the class alone." Then he turned to Katryna, and his expression turned impassive. "Tell me what happened, Tree." 

She straightened and met his green eyes with her pale blue ones. "I had my session with him, like you knew about." Clarence nodded, not finding it at all hard to realize that the 'him' in this case was Severus. "And he talked about his parents, a little, not much. We got distracted, and started talking about Voldemort." Clarence frowned, but did not otherwise condemn her. Yet. "I asked him what he wanted, and he said he just needed to get out of Hogwarts. I asked him where he would go, and he said to Voldemort. Then . . . I said I'd help." 

Clarence closed his eyes and released an audible breath of air through his nose. He looked mildly sick. "Tryna." He sounded hurt and helpless. 

"I'm not dark, Clarence." _Please, believe me. Please?_

"What happened next?" When his eyes opened, his face was as blank as Snape's ever was. She felt as if someone had sliced into her gut with something cold. He didn't believe her. Her own brother didn't believe her. Clarence. The one who idolized Professor Snape when _everyone_ else believed Snape was a Death Eater. 

"So we planned his escape. He came up with the distraction, I hit the Auror with a stupify. I gave Severus my broom, and he was gone, out through the Charm's room window and into the Forbidden Forest. Then I came to Dumbledore to confess." 

The hand still holding her arm jerked her around to look into the angry eyes of the auror. "You? You were the one who stunned me?" 

She flinched back, but didn't make it very far. "Yes," she said in a small voice. 

"And where, Tryna, is the part that tells me why you shouldn't join Grandfather? This isn't a game, Katryna. Do you know what poison Matty got hit with? Do you know what crimes that kid who used to be Professor Snape can do now?" 

She retreated from the harsh voice she barely recognized as her brother's. But there was nowhere to retreat to, except back up against the auror. 

"He'll turn again," she said, more to herself than anybody else. It was the only thing that could fight off the guilt. Because Severus Snape belonged on Dumbledore's side and what she did was the best way to get him there. "He has to turn. He did it before." She hadn't done anything _wrong_. Well, not unless Severus became a real bad guy and never turned. Then she was indirectly responsible for every crime he committed. Like poisoning Matty. "I'm sorry." 

Clarence closed his eyes, looking sick again, and shook his head. "No, Tryna. You're not. That's your 'I'm-scared-don't-punish-me' sorry, not your 'I-am-really-sorry' sorry." 

She blinked in surprise, not having been aware she had two types of sorry. Nor that Clarence could tell them apart. Though she did mentally concede he was right. That would probably explain why she couldn't figure out what she was apologizing _for_. 

Her parents and Zmiya arrived at almost the same time from different directions. The Tragyls came through the floo, from the special ministry fire that was the only floo connection that allowed approved wizards or witches to floo into Hogwarts, while Zmiya entered through the more traditional entrance, the office door. 

"Daddy!" Tryna exclaimed as soon as her father appeared, breaking from the auror's grip in her singleminded mission to bury herself into her father's embrace. Waltr Tragyl was most accomodating in this pursuit. As soon as his arms enclosed around her, she began to sob, releasing all the tears of terror and guilt that she had until now held back. 

He rubbed soothing circle on her back, as she buried her face into his robes and cried helplessly. He spoke softly to her, but whatever words he used, she couldn't distiguish. Not that they mattered. 

Her outburst only lasted less than a minute, before she pulled away from the wet spot she left on his front. She did not, however, leave his side or let go of him. Looking up into his face, searching it for she knew not what, she said only, "I'm not a dark witch." 

"Of course not, baby," he assured her, and the world was right again. Her father believed her. 

She dropped her head against him in relief. "Don't let them send me to Azkaban." 

"Of course not, baby." 

"Father, you haven't even heard what she did." 

She felt him stiffen under her. "She is your sister, Firetop. I should think that would be proof enough." 

"So by that logic, Uncle Sividious is a completely innocent man?" 

"Clarence!" their mother exclaimed sharply, but her lecture couldn't continue over their father's retort. "My brother is an entirely different case. And do watch who you say such things in front of, boy." Tryna lifted her head in time to see her father shot a pointed look at Fletcher. The auror frowned suspiciously at her father, who scowled right back at him. "Sividious has been under suspicion for over twenty years, Auror. That shouldn't be news to you." 

Tryna pulled on her father's robe, and he bent down so she could whisper in his ear. "When Severus turns good again, Gran is going to be arrested." 

He retreated far enough to give her a curious look. "Why?" he asked aloud, then bent forward for her to whisper to him again. 

"She's a Death Eater. She told me, and I told Severus." 

Again he backed up, looking at her with a strange expression that she couldn't really pick out emotions from. "She's a what? She told you that?" 

Tryna nodded. "She likes me for some reason." 

"Well you can't see her anymore." 

"Daddy!" Tryna exclaimed in surprised betrayal. "I was getting information about Severus's problem!" 

"That's where you got that from?" Clarence joined the argument. She wasn't very surprised that he had worked out what they were talking about. "I thought Snape told you!" 

"How would Severus know? He just drank the bloody thing! And he doesn't even remember that!" 

A shrill whistle fractured the air of the headmaster's office, making most of the inhabitants, including Fawkes and Headmasters and Headmistresses Past, flinch and cover their ears. Having gained _everyone's_ undivided attention, Keri Tragyl said, quite calmly, "Would one of you three mind sharing with the rest of the class?" 

"No," Tryna and her father said together sullenly. 

"Grandmother Tragyl is a Death Eater," Clarence answered. "Tryna just told Father." For his trouble he gained two glares, one open mouthed gape, a moderately lost frown, a slightly disturbed twinkle, and a smug smile. 

"She's ours this time," Fletcher somehow managed a growl that sounded gleeful. 

"No proof unless Tryna helps," Clarence pointed out regretfully, then returned a glare to his sister. "Which she is evidently against doing." 

She glared right back, staying stubbornly silent. 

"Proof is overrated," Fletcher disagreed with the Ravenclaw. "We just need a look at her arm." 

"Then why didn't you do that for Grandfather?" Tryna demanded. "He was innocent!" Father and even Mum nodded their agreement to this assessment. Keri added under her breath, "A Slytherin drunk and bastard, but innocent." 

Fletcher scowled at Tryna, and she had the distinct impression she was little better than a Death Eater herself in his eyes. "After Harry Potter defeated Voldemort the first time, all the Dark Marks faded to invisibility." 

"As _fascinating_ as all this is, why was I called from my class?" Zmiya interrupted irritably. 

"Oh, yes," Dumbledore said absentmindedly. "We were going to discuss Miss Tragyl's offense. As she is a Slytherin, you were called as her official Acting Head of House, while Clarence was her chosen unofficial Acting Head of House." 

"What did the little troublemaker do this time?" 

Tryna frowned, offended. She hadn't be caught _once_ making trouble in Zmiya's class. He had no right to call her a troublemaker. 

"Miss Tragyl, would you care to explain again?" 

"Why not? Well, first of all, I helped Severus Snape get back to Voldemort." She didn't even flinch this time when she said the name. "Additionally, I know the names of some other Death Eaters, and I won't tattle. Oh, and I stunned an Auror during the escape. I think that covers it?" she glanced at Dumbledore, asserting that she did mention all of the major crimes arrayed against her. With the arrival of her father, most of her fear had dissipated, and now she was just impatient to learn her punishment. 

Keri Tragyl was looking at her daughter in something akin to horror. Clarence and Fletcher were frowning at her again. Zmiya was blinking rapidly. Dumbledore looked sadly resigned. Father . . . Father had cocked his head while he listened, then turned to Dumbledore. "None of these things make her a Dark Witch." 

"Waltr! She stunned an auror and helped a Death Eater escape!" 

Her father lightly wrapped her arms around her protectively and supportively. "And I am certain she had a very good reason to do so. Didn't you, sweetie?" 

"He's supposed to turn back to our side," Tryna explained. "He won't do that from here. He's got to work it out for himself that Voldemort is wrong, and he can't when our side is being so awful to him. Me and Clarence were the _only_ ones who spoke civilly to him." 

"Clarence and I," Keri corrected automatically. 

Tryna, through long practice, ignored her easily. "And then there's the fact that he's mentally only twelve. Twelve, people. A little second year. I'm a year older and about four inches taller than him. How quickly everyone forgot how polite and nice he was those first days before he disappeared. Do we even know he went of his own volition? He's confused and lost in time and his parents are dead because the ministry killed them. Then he comes back to Hogwarts with an auror guard who hates him and a thirteen year old and two or three fifteen year old - not to speak poorly of Matty after what happened today, but - they were awful to the poor kid. Sev wanted to get out of here, and I, for one, don't blame him at all." She favoured everyone in the room except Fawkes and her father with a glare. 

Her father smirked down at her. "Haven't you enough brothers without adopting more?" 

"But I haven't a _little_ brother, Father," Katryna pointed out primly. "Nor one with black hair." 

"Hmm. Perhaps your mother and I should do something about that." 

By the dark look Keri Tragyl leveled at her husband, this did not seem to have very good odds. "Mum says no. Can I keep Severus?" 

"Sweetie, in your effort to help him, I fear you've overlooked something." Her father looked at her solemnly, all hint of his earlier teasing gone. "Now that Severus has gone to Voldemort he has three options. Well, no, I take that back. He has two options. To stay there and become what everyone expects of him. Or to try to leave. If he attempts the latter, there are two possible outcomes. One is far more likely than the other. The unlikely one is that he makes it back to Hogwarts safely and isn't killed by either the aurors hunting him or the Death Eaters he has betrayed yet again. The likely one is that he dies trying. As you said, he is twelve. Two years younger than Kib. Can you see Kib escaping the dark lord intact?" 

It had never occurred to her that he could die. She denied the possibility. He was Severus Snape, after all. "You don't know him, Dad. He's almost as smart as Clarence -" 

"Smarter," Clarence corrected, and flushed as everyone turned to look at him. "Well, as an adult, anyway." 

Katryna nodded, taking the interruption as assistance, and continued, "Which makes him much brighter than Kib. Plus, he's Slytherin, so he won't do anything stupidly Gryffindor like telling Voldemort off when he realizes he's made a mistake. He'll just have his quiet little epiphany, then get away." 

Her father shook his head sadly, but did not deny the possiblity of what she described. Then he looked at Dumbledore. "I believe we have established that her motives were pure. Give her a term's worth of detention and a hundred points from Slytherin for the inconvience. Oh, and I suppose I'll revoke her Hogsmeade priviledges for the year." 

"Daddy!" 

He waved a finger at her. "You're the one who fell in with Death Eaters. I understand from the Midget that Harry Potter gets a great deal of detentions and lost house points for interferring." 

"But Harry Potter always gets them back at the end of the year! For interferring!" 

Her father laughed. "Well, you'll just need to interfere again, and do it right next time. It might even clear your name, little Missy." 

Dumbledore's twinkle had almost completely returned when he clapped his hands and said cheerfully, "Well, it's decided then! One hundred points from Slytherin, detention until end of term, and withdrawl of Hogsmeade priviledges." 

Katryna sighed. It was better than Azkaban, so she wasn't going to complain. 

She wasn't about to bring up her silence on the names of her Death Eater friends, family, and acquaintances, either. 

* * *

_A/N: Reviews as always appreciated! Sorry for the lack of Severus this chapter. But hopefully his reunion with Voldemort next chapter will make up for it_


	21. I Will, My Lord

** Twelve Again  
Chapter Twenty-One: I Will, My Lord **

  
  
Summary: After Professor Snape fails to return from a Death Eater meeting, Hagrid finds a young dark-haired boy who believes the year is still 1968. The victim of an experimental time-reversal potion, young Severus tries to adapt to a changed world without his parents, his familiar classmates, or his illusions that his life is his own.  
Spoilers: Through GoF, this takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places remain JK Rowlings'.   
  
  
Katryna's broom was amazing. The last time Severus had flown was in 1968, and his then-top-of-the-line Cleansweep just wasn't anything like this beauty. He had barely managed not to embarass himself by slamming into the Charms classroom wall. He had seriously overcompansated for a list to the right that just wasn't there, but the window was wide enough that he still made it through. By the time he reached the Apparation Barrier just beyond the edge of the Forbidden Forest, he had adjusted to the broom's perfection. 

He weaved between trees, delighting in the feel of wind in his face again, and was struck by surprise when he suddenly was no longer in the air, supported by sleek wood, and moving unerringly forward, but instead, in the air, unsupported, and falling down, crashing onto dried yellow grass. He was no longer surrounded by trees but a circle of robed and masked men. Twelve of them, a quick count revealed, as he pushed himself up into a kneeling position and looked around. Not counting Voldemort who stood directly in front of him with crossed arms and a smile Severus wasn't sure he wanted to correctly interpret. 

"Sssseverussss." 

All thoughts of broomsticks and flying were gone as if they had never been. "My lord!" Severus exclaimed, channelling all his relief at being away from Fletcher and proud determination that he felt at being allowed to resume his spying mission into the salutation. _His_ face was still unmasked, so he let the genuine emotions show. And his face was Severus's so he felt little anger or disgust at his present company. All that belonged to Matty now. And Matty was a pile of pillows in a Hospital Wing bed. 

Though Severus was rather of the opinion this had happened three hours previously, Matty was, at that moment, getting ushered into the Hospital wing with great fanfare and moaning, but the young spy didn't really care about that twist of time at the moment. 

At the moment, what Severus cared about, was Voldemort's approach. Long, dry fingers lifted his chin and he met the eerie red gaze again. This time, he did not try to break away. This time, he did not show defiance or fear. This time, he met the glowing red orbs with confidence. "I am yours, my lord," he told him without even being asked. He had, after all, spent over two weeks convincing his Severus face that this was true. Fletcher and the rest of the school had been very helpful in this pursuit. 

The dark lord's engimatic smile turned almost . . . pleased. That creepy feeling from their last meeting began to stir again. "You have been long away from ussss, Sssseverussss." 

"The auror, my lord, was always hovering. I got away as soon as I could." 

"You had help, yesss?" 

It was obvious that he knew something of the escape plan. Well, if the girl hadn't wanted to get mixed up with Voldemort, she shouldn't have gotten involved. Her grandmother had probably already mentioned her name, anyway. "Yes, my lord. Katryna Tragyl. She has been most cooperative." 

The fingers that still held up his chin were withdrawn and the dark lord began to circle him. Severus was reminded of a vulture, but surpressed the chill that slid down his spine. "Sssshe will be rewarded. Ssssshe has returned to usss what Gideon hasss lossst." Severus's attention was drawn to a break in the circle of Death Eaters as the cloaked figures fidgited minutely and looked toward the spot. The stomach acids in his gut sudddenly became several times more potent, and he wondered why they weren't burning out and through his robes. Nott had said there were thirteen Death Eaters in the Inner Circle. Only twelve were now present. An empty spot drew attention at his name. 

Nott was almost certainly dead. Because Severus had pulled a disappearing act on him. _I killed a man,_ Severus thought wildly, his face turning pasty white. Conflicting thoughts rose in response to this, nearly overwhelming him. _No, Voldemort did. - He's just sick and couldn't make it today. - Of course I did, I'm a Death Eater now. - He was nice to me. - Just a bad dream, Severus. This is just a bad dream. - I didn't do it. It wasn't me. - He was a Death Eater. A bad guy. - I really am a traitor. - Harry, help me. - Nobody was supposed to die. - Bury it, fool! Pay attention!_

The last thought was sharp and sudden, snapping him back to the present, his mind obeying the orders swiftly and automatically. 

Voldemort was studying him with an amused smile on his thin, inhuman lips. "Foolissssh child," he said, almost fondly. Severus found it somewhat disturbing that his subconscious and the dark lord gave him the same insult. Dry fingers turned Severus's head as if inspecting an interesting piece of art he was considering buying. "But you ssssshall learn, my Sssseverussss." 

"I will, my lord" Severus promised, completely truthfully and earnestly. He would learn. Curses. Voldemort's plans. Dark potions. Voldemort's habits and patterns. Dark rituals. Voldemort's followers and allies: their numbers and names. Voldemort's skills: what he could do and how he did it. Everything. 

The dark lord laughed, that dry, unnatural sound. Severus ignored the chill it gave him, and returned a smile, meeting cruel red eyes. "Teach me, my lord." 

* * *

The majority of the other Death Eaters had left. Only the one called Wormtail, Severus, and Voldemort remained. "Again." 

Severus pointed his wand at the unfortunate cat the dark lord had found for 'practice'. "_Crucio!_" 

"Hold it." Severus maintained the spell, doing his very best to remain impassive in stance and expression. To show neither his discomfort nor his waning endurance. 

"Hold it." Sweat appeared on the boy's brow, and he fought to surpress the rising bile at the animal's torture. Such awful howls, yowls, and screeches should come from nothing living. 

"Hold it." His ebony wand began to shake, just a little, under the strain of the advanced spell. Not enough to affect the spell though, thank Merlin. He dared not make a mistake in front of _him_. 

"Hold it." The tortured noises of the cat decreased, then stopped completely. Severus lowered his wand, and wiped at the sweat threatening to drip into his eyes. 

"Excccellent, my Sssseverusss." Severus grinned with the pleasure of a teacher's approval, the pride overpowering the guilt. It was a _very_ difficult spell to hold through the victim's death. Voldemort made a sharp gesture towards Wormtail. "Sssee that it isss dead, Pettigrew." 

Severus froze, pride, fear, guilt, cat, spell, exhaustion, and Voldemort forgotten. His eyes jumped toward the entirely forgetable Death Eater, bent down beside the dead animal, searching for signs of life. Severus's gaze sought identifying features, compared to his outdated memory, subtracted years, and still had difficulty seeing one of his former nemeses. The cat was in better condition. _Not_ what he expected of a golden Gryffindor. A relative, maybe? "Pettigrew?" he repeated in disbelief, "Surely not Peter." Peter sat next to Remus, in Potions, and they talked in whispers the entire class, melting their caulron because they were too busy laughing to pay it proper heed. 

"Pathetic, isss he not?" 

Pettigrew flinched, but only gave his verdict on the cat, "D-dead, my l-lord." 

Severus frowned, but not because of the beast's death. "He was a Gryffindor, my lord," Severus said in honest confusion. Peter wasn't supposed to _be_ here. Peter was supposed to have a witch, two point five children, and an owl. Gryffindors didn't go in for world domination plots. And Peter, especially, didn't have the disposition for it. 

That dry laugh came from Voldemort again. "You will learn, my Sssseverusss, that ssssometimesss, even a Gryffindor may be of ussse." 

Severus looked doubtful. "I suppose you'll next tell me there are Hufflepuffs among the Death Eaters." 

Another laugh. "A few, my Sssseverusss. They are loyal." And the red gaze sharpened on him, remindingly, warningly. The message was clearly recieved. His first twelve years had not yet been completely forgiven for the deeds of his last twenty. Those betrayals would be even less easily forgotten. 

Severus swallowed. "I will not make Professor Snape's mistakes, my lord." 

The red gaze held his for far longer than he was comfortable with. "No, you will not." There was a pause long enough to make Severus believe he had finished speaking on that subject, but then the dark lord added, "I will sssee to that." The warm sweat still dripping down his back from his previous exertions turned abruptly cold. 

Thin lips, more grey than pink, drew into a smile, and the menace of the Wizarding and Muggle Worlds came near enough to lay hands upon Severus' shoulders. Severus looked up into his red eyes, and was more than disturbed to find proud fondness there. His father had looked at him in the same way occassionally. Not often, but when he did, Severus felt like the world had suddenly been given to him. He was terrified to recognize a similar pleasure rising in response to the familiar look from entirely the wrong face. 

"My Ssseverusss," Voldemort said, the words changing in Severus's brain, morphing into _my ssson_. More frightening still, it was still Voldemort's voice he heard. "You are ssscared, and uncccertain, but you will learn your true loyaltiesss." 

"They are with you, my lord," he answered immediately, though panic swirled in his gut and his mind, as the implications of those words became clear. And the bloody wizard was completely right. 

"Ssssmall Sssseverusss," Voldermort said, sounding amused, "You are a liar." 

Terror swallowed him whole, completely impossible to hide, not from a blind bat, certainly not from that penetrating red gaze. The hands on his shoulders drew him against the dark lord, and he felt arms wrap around him in a hug that had little to do with affection or warmth. He began to shake. Long, dry fingers stroked through his hair, and the hissing voice spoke into his ear, "Cry, my Ssseverusss, I do not intend to kill you yet." 

It was a poor excuse for a conforting reassurance, but with Harry and Uncle Albus much too far away to be of use, he held onto the dark lord and shook until the tremours of fear left him. He did not cry. When he recovered, he pulled away. "My apologies. I will not show such weakness again, my lord." 

Again his finger crooked under Severus's chin, upturning his face. "Dry eyes, good. But do not make promises you cannot keep, my Sssseverusss." The finger left his chin, and applied gentle pressure behind his shoulder, turning him toward Wormtail. "My faithful ssservant has disssappointed me, my Sssseveruss. You will punisssh him for me." 

"What?" the word popped out as little better than a yelp. 

"A cat isss hardly a challenge, child." 

He meant for Severus to cast the Cruciatus curse on a man. On Peter. Who was shaking in as much terror as Severus had just recovered from. _A former enemy,_ he told himself, raising his wand. _A Death Eater, now. A current enemy._ He opened his mouth. _A miserable excuse for life, a creature more than a man, now._ He stilled his racing pulse. _Probably had a hand in Harry's parents' death. James Bloody Potter and Lily the Odd One Evans._ He concentrated. _He cost me forty points from Slytherin for blaming me for one of his stupid pranks._ He drew magic through the wand. _I'm sorry._ "_Crucio!_

It was different. With a man. Pettigrew crumpled to the ground and writhed in the dirt and grime on the floor. His screams split the room, far worse than the cat's. Through the link of the spell, he could almost sense exactly how far he could push before madness took the mind. 

"Hold it." Voldemort's voice instructed as his hand clasped Severus's shoulder again. His energy already flagging, he instinctively drew strength and magic from that source. The hand released him as if burnt. "Sstop." Severus released the spell instantly. Pettigrews whimpers continued as background noise, but Severus's eyes widened in alarm at the intensity of the dark lord's gaze, as he was spun around to face him again. "What did you jusst do?" 

"The Cruciatus curse, my lord" Severus answered, secretly amazed and pleased his voice didn't shake or stutter. 

"To me, boy. What did you do to me?" 

Severus paled, and wet his suddenly parched lips. He had stolen magic from the the most infamous wizard alive. "I." Black eyes sought his footing in the red gaze. No anger, just surprise, and something that might have been wonder. Which was more than a little disconcerting. But Voldemort wasn't mad, at any rate. He calmed, just a little. "Borrowed magic, I guess, from you." 

"Borrowed magic," the dark lord repeated, sounding just a bit, well, if it was anyone but Lord Voldemort, Severus would have called it stunned. He decided on 'bemused' instead. "How? Can you reverse the process to give as well as take?" 

"I don't know, sir. I . . . never did it before. That I noticed, anyway." 

Voldemort laughed again. Severus wasn't sure if the sound had changed or his own perceptions had, but it didn't sound as awful this time. "Child, you are a wonder. It isss good you are mine, elssse I would need to kill you. Come, I will ssshow you your room. Tomorrow, we ssshall ssstudy your unique talent." He stepped over the still twitching Pettigrew on his way toward the forboding manor at the top of the hill. 

Severus was led through several corridors and up a case of stairs, into a medium sized room. There were no windows. "Apperation barriers and anti-location wards protect the entire property," Voldemort said. "You will not be kidnapped again here." Severus swallowed and nodded. "Go in and rest. There are books for your entertainment if you find it too early yet to sleep. Dinner will be in three hours." 

Severus entered, feeling as though he were stepping into cell, a very comfortable cell, yes, but a cell. Voldemort closed the door, and Severus counted to twenty before trying to open it. Locked, as he expected. The three forms of unlocking charms he knew failed to open it as well. Still, he took down one of the books and used a severing charm to remove one of the blank pages at the end. He doubted Voldemort would actually search his person, and it would be good to have a message ready to send to the Headmaster should the opportunity arise. 

Unfortunately, no quill or ink was anywhere in evidence in the room. 

He searched his school robes and produced a broken quill. Good enough. Ink. Well, there was always . . . He closed his eyes and cast another severing charm. He collected the blood pooling at the base of his left hand into the quill's perfectly functional nub, and began to write, accidently smearing blood on the margins where his held it steady. 

_Dear Katryna,_

There was a difference between not expecting a search for incrimating documents and inviting one. Severus was not stupid. 

_Thank you for the loan of you broom. Since it did not make it to my destination with me, I expect it to lay in the forest, just outside the Apparation boundry. My first day away from Hogwarts_

Severus refilled the quill from the still bleeding cut on his hand. 

_has been eventful. I met Peter Pettigrew again, he was an old acquaintance of mine from my first school days. He does not look well at all. I think this life disagrees with him. The man I came to see has treated me surprisingly well, given the Professor's past deed, and what he believes of my own loyalties. I think he sees me as a sort of pet project. He trusts me not at all, but he indulges me with his personal attention. I have been given quarters in the same manor where he stays. Fletcher will never find me here!_

The clean cut had closed, and Severus cast the charm to open it again, wincing a little at the pain, but continued his letter. 

_I am uncertain to whether I will be allowed to send you this letter, since my lord keeps close tabs on me, and locks me in a windowless room when I am not with him personally. With luck, I will find a sparrow to deliver it while he is distracted sometime. However, while I practiced spells he taught me today, I saw no animals at all except for a cat that Peter found a few blocks away and brought for our use. I fear the cat is no longer available for delivery purposes._

Hating to waste his blood like this, Severus scratched out the last line. Dumbledore wouldn't want to know that. 

_Well, I just wanted to thank you again for your help. I hope you didn't get into any trouble because of me. Give Matty a firecracker in his potion for me, when he gets better. Though, I doubt that will be for a few more weeks, if not months. I'll try to keep in touch. Yours,  
Severus_

* * *

_A/N: Here it is: the long anticipated Severus-Returns-To-Voldemort chapter. Hope it was as creepy as the first encounter._


	22. The Potion Masters Library

** Twelve Again  
Chapter Twenty-Two: The Potion Master's Library **

  
  
Summary: After Professor Snape fails to return from a Death Eater meeting, Hagrid finds a young dark-haired boy who believes the year is still 1968. The victim of an experimental time-reversal potion, young Severus tries to adapt to a changed world without his parents, his familiar classmates, or his illusions that his life is his own.  
Spoilers: Through GoF, this takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places remain JK Rowlings'.   
He had dozed briefly. Between the excitement of his escape from Hogwarts, his second Death Eater meeting, and the exhausting effects of casting the Cruciatius, it had been a battle to maintain even that level of alertness. When it became obvious that just lying in his bed would result in deep slumber if he stayed there much longer, Severus sat up and immediately felt queasy. He leaned forward, supporting his head in his hands and waited for the feeling to pass. 

When it did, he straightened, and rose to his feet, but immediately had to sit down again on the bed because of the blackness stealing his vision and balance. His sight soon cleared again, but his head was left with a painful ache. He sat there, not really daring to stand or lie back down until the door opened to admit Peter. "The Lord says you are to come down to dinner now." 

Fearing a nod or standing would return the dizziness, he only made a dismissive gesture. "I will be there momentarily," he said in his most aloof voice. 

Peter frowned, "You're coming with me, or not coming at all, Snape. I'm not going to suffer Nott's fate." 

Severus's gut twisted at this unwelcome reminder. "Gideon's dead?" he asked in a small voice, hoping, but doubting, it didn't sound as pitiful as it . . . sounded. 

Peter shot him an odd look. "Quite thoroughly." 

His stomach lurched at that ominious-sounding confirmation. He felt decidedly ill. "I'm not hungry. Please pass on my regrets to our Lord, Peter." 

His ex-yearmate paled slightly, and Severus thought he saw a thin layer of sweat break out on the now-grown-man's forehead. "I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that the invitation was optional, Snape." He didn't sound very sorry, then his eyes narrowed in the calculation that their teachers had never seemed to notice. "I knew you pretended to be Gideon's friend, but, really, Severus, I hadn't thought you would take his death so hard. You couldn't possibly have actually _liked_ somebody, did you?" 

"I'm only twelve, Pettigrew," Severus reminded him quietly. "I barely knew Mr. Nott." 

Peter gave him a hard, disbelieving look. "Twelve-year olds can't do the things you can do, Snape. Go ahead and play your game of little lost lamb to our Lord, but I knew you then." 

"You knew me then?" Severus repeated in incredulity, "You were a bloody Gryffindor. The only words we exchanged were insults, hexes, and accusations. And I wasn't the only one talking." 

"You gave far worse than any of us did." 

"It was four against one! What did you expect me to do? I was confident enough to think I could handle you by myself, but not stupid enough to think I could do it _nicely_." 

Peter laughed. "You were an arrogant git even then, weren't you?" 

"You were noble Gryffindors," Severus imbued the last two words with the essense of insult, "You wouldn't stoop to anything truly nasty." He paused, and looked at Peter as if seeing him for the first time, "So what in bloody Merlin's name are you doing here, Pettigrew?" Normally, Severus would never have dreamed of speaking to an adult like that, but this was _Peter_. 

The grown Pettigrew scowled at him, it looked much more fearsome now than it had back in his old life. "You are expected at table now, Snape." All his recent time with Slytherins had apparently taught him to glower, but he still needed a lot of work on dodging questions. 

"You'll tell me sooner or later, Peter," Severus told him imperiously, not moving from his seat on his bed. What was with him lately? Engaging in deep conversations with Gryffindors? First Harry, then Remus, then Hermione and Ron, then Sirius, now Pettigrew. Before the time shift, he'd never once spoken to any of them. It didn't seem likely that it was habit that he'd picked up from Professor Snape. 

Though, to be fair to his older self, he'd only gotten student and auror impressions of the man he grew up to be. Two points of view that weren't likely to look highly upon him. Maybe, when he got back to Hogwarts, Matty could ask his Head of House about Severus as a grown up. If he got back to Hogwarts. 

"It was your fault, Snape," Peter said irritably, "Now come to dinner." 

Severus stared at him. "How was it _my_ fault?" Surely Peter was lying. No Gryffindor - especially not one of Potter's friends - would join Voldemort on his say-so, if he ever gave one the say-so, which he couldn't imagine any circumstance under which he would wish to do so. 

"Come to dinner, Snape, and I might consider telling you later." 

It was as good an incentive to go as he was going to get. His stomach had calmed, and a careful rise to his feet proved he was about to keel over again from dizziness. "I'll hold you to it, Pettigrew." In his best Atticus Snape impression, he swept past the grown man who used to be his classmate and hoped his intuition would guide him to the dining room without getting embarassingly lost. 

After only two wrong turns, he did find the room. The table was set for one, and Peter told him eat, before leaving him alone. There was no window, and no bird to use to send his letter, so Severus just took his seat and peered into the bowl placed there. He smiled as he recognized the dish as beef stew, slightly congealed at the top from the wait during which it sat ther unattended. 

He picked up his spoon and began to stir, re-mixing the thick broth into an even consistancy. He nearly screamed when a . . . thing . . . he didn't want to recognize rose to the surface. He did drop the spoon with a clatter. He swallowed his own bile, and picked up the utensil again, telling himself that he did not just see an eye in his soup. He fished it out with little difficulty and hid the disturbing item between the folds of his napkin where he couldn't see it, and where it couldn't see him. _Please, don't let that be a human eye,_ he silently begged whoever might be listening. 

Several more items joined the not-an-eye as he carefully inspected each spoonful before putting it in his mouth. Voldemort joined him about halfway through, and took the seat across from Severus. He did not eat, either because it was no longer neccessary for him to do so, or because he already had. Instead, he simply watched Severus eat (or exile certain parts to the napkin). 

Only as Severus neared the end of his bowl did he speak. "I trussst you enjoyed the Nott Ssstew?" 

Severus stubbornly refused to consider the possibility that the beef may not have been beef. His gaze did, however, fall on the lumpy napkin that held . . . the things he didn't want to think about too closely. "I thought the stories said Dark Lords ate their victims for breakfast, not dinner," Severus remarked, feeling proud of himself for not running to the nearest toilet with his hand over his mouth. It was really too much to expect his voice not to shake as well. 

Voldemort gave an unforced, genuine laugh. "No, my Ssseverusss," he corrected, either deadpan or serious, "It isss babiesss or bad children that we eat for breakfassst." Either way, Severus decided that he wasn't going to have breakfast here. He pushed away the three or four spoonfuls that remained of his stew as well. 

"Tell me, my Ssseverusss, have you any memoriesss of your firssst ssserviccce to me?" 

Severus shrugged, "I had a dream about it, once. I think that was a memory. I - Professor Snape killed a little boy." Severus mentally cursed himself for calling his dream self as Professor Snape. Here he was supposed to be able to admit to doing that kind of thing because he was expect to do them himself eventually. "I used crucio to do it," he added, hoping that made up for his previous slip. 

"Do you recall why you turned on me?" 

_He stood in a sitting room. There were enough shelves of books to almost call it a library, if a far larger selection hadn't graced the room across the hall. A desk faced the only wall that wasn't lined with books, and a robed and masked Death Eater was going through the drawers. Severus himself was looking through the shelves of books, getting a favourable impression of the room's owner by the selection of titles. He took down one ancient looking tome entitled "Draughts of Life and Death" just before someone called his name. _

He turned toward the speaker, his eyebrow raised inquiringly, though that would be impossible to see, hidden as it was behind his own Death Eater mask. Severus got the impression, somehow, that the man rifling through the desk rolled his eyes at him. "You're supposed to be looking for the letter." 

"It could be tucked into one of the books," Severus told him, though that had not been his reason for taking down this particular text. "It would be where I would hide such a thing." His eyes scanned the titles again, and he gave a small smirk, "I expect Professor Branstion would as well. In the library. I'd wager my entire potions stock that the letter won't be in this room." 

The other Death Eater grumbled something under his breath, and stood. "Why are we wasting time in here then?" He stalked past Severus and crossed the hall to the library. Severus followed, bringing the ancient text with him. He arrived in time to hear the other's groan of dismay as he took in the sheer volume of books. "Snape, if this is just a trick for you to spend some quality time in the potions master's library, I will flay you." 

Quality time in the potions master's library. Severus could only wish. He did not respond to the other Death Eater's threat as he began to skim through the titles here. Paying scant attention to the time or his assignment, he browsed the library as if he had the right to be there, taking down the occassional book, and placing it on the coffee table where he had placed the "Draughts of Life and Death" book. 

Consequently, he was more surprised than alarmed when the Professor himself popped into the room right in front of him. At some point he had taken off his mask, and dropped it on the sofa beside the coffee table. He had ignored his companion's muttered warnings. 

"Severus!" the professor exclaimed, as surprised to see him, as he was to see the professor. 

"Professor," Severus returned politely, the second before the other Death Eater swore and cast a panicked killing curse at the man. The professor knew he was about to die. Severus saw it in his eyes, as they turned to him again, and silently asked what his tongue did not have time to say. The green light enveloped him, and Severus caught his body before it could crash to the ground. The brown eyes never left his as the life fled them. 

"Sev." It was the professor's last word, and Severus never knew whether he simply didn't finish the full name, or if he was saying the name that he was one of four people ever given permission to use. Two of which had died in Severus's fourth year of Hogwarts. Now, only Evan Rosier was left with that right. 

"You bastard, you killed him." He held tight control over his emotions and lashed out only with the single insult, as he lowered the body of his professor to the floor of his own library. 

"He recognized you, Snape." 

He looked up at the Death Eater with a glare that made him retreat a step. "He could have been obliviated." 

"He works for Dumbledore, Snape. He's the enemy. He wasn't Slytherin or even pureblooded." 

Severus closed the professor's dead eyes. He almost wished he could cry for the man who had been like a father to him, even before his own father had died. "Ravenclaw. My mother was Ravenclaw." 

"Snape, your mother was Slytherin," his companion sounded half-annoyed, half-worried. 

Severus barely heard him. His eye fell on one of the books on the shelf beside the body. It was one he knew the Professor liked. He pulled it out and folded it under the dead man's hands, just over his heart. 

"Snape, they'll know it was you, if you keep that up." The other Death Eater was starting to sound nervous now. 

"Let them." Severus was beyond caring about his own welfare at the moment. "Leave if it bothers you." 

"What about the letter?" 

Severus looked at him blankly. "The what?" 

"The letter. That we came here to find." 

"The Ministry is probably on its way. You won't find it before they get here. Just go." He hesitated a long moment, then nodded, and disaperated. Alone, Severus continued to fuss over the body, and eventually noticed the corner of parchment sticking out of the book he had given the dead man to hold. He slid it out, and almost began to laugh when he realized he held the letter they had come for. The letter his favourite professor had died for. Severus set it on fire without even reading it. 

"Professor Branstion is dead, too?" Severus said, aloud, appalled. His black eyes sought denial and comfort from the only person available to him. "My lord, say he isn't. Please. Say I imagined it." 

"Professssor Branssstion?" 

"My potions master at Hogwarts." 

The dark lord frowned thoughtfully, "Ah, yesss. Branssstion. The man with Flamel'sss letter with the recccipe for the elixssir of youth. It never wasss recovered." 

"I burned it," Severus told him with vindictive pleasure. 

Red eyes regarded him thoughtfully. "Did you indeed." 

"Yes. Then I went to Dumbledore to turn in myself and Igor Karkaroff who was the one who killed him. I hope the bastard _still_ rots in Azkaban." 

Voldemort began to laugh again. 

"What?" Severus snapped, unable to stop the angry question. If the Dark Lord said one word about Severus's choice of language, he would attempt to kill the monster right now. 

"I underssstand now your enthusssiasm during Karkaroff'sss . . . interrogation." He chuckled again. "Karkaroff isss no longer in Azsskaban, but even you, I think, would be sssatisssfied by hisss demissse." 

Severus took that to mean he died a traitor's death at Voldemort's hand. Like Nott. Like he should have had, but didn't. "Why am I alive?" 

Voldemort smiled at him. It was more scary than fond, though it might have been scary because it was fond. "Becaussse, my Ssseverusss, you did sssomething none of my other traitorsss did." 

"What was that?" 

"You sssurvived three and a half yearsss of willful and active treachery before you were dissscovered." He reached across the table to run a chalk dry finger along his jaw. "I find it amusssing to sssee your pitiful attemptsss to repeat your former massstery. Tell me, my Ssseverusss, why you persssissst in giving your allegianccce to that fool Dumbledore?" 

"Because he's nice to me and lets me make my own choices!" 

"By giving you your own Auror watchdog?" 

"I told him to, so I wouldn't have to come back to you, yet!" That was a pretty stupid thing to say to him, Severus realized a tad too late. 

Voldemort chuckled, "Perhapsss you do have sssome ssskill at thisss already. I begin to doubt you were ever completely mine." He smiled, cold enough to give Severus chills. "But you will be, my Ssseverusss. You will be." 

"I doubt it," Severus muttered. 

Voldemort only smiled indulgently. "Isss there truly nothing I can offer that interessstsss you?" 

Severus bit his lip, trying to keep back the words, but his tongue had a mind of its own. "There is." 

"And what isss it that you want me to do for you?" 

"Teach me." 

Voldemort smiled, and his red eyes almost flickered in amusement. "Teach you what?" 

"Everything." 

The smile and flickering eyes did not dim. "You'll need to be more ssspecccific than that." 

"Things that Dumbledore won't teach. Things that you can't find in books. How to do the things you do. How to be a great and powerful wizard. How to defeat you." 

Voldemort hissed something, somehow making it sound amused. "I will teach you all of that, my Ssseverusss, excccept inssstead of how to defeat me, I will teach you how to sssuccccceed me." 

Severus blinked. "Succeed you, my Lord?" 

But instead of answering, Voldemort rang a bell that seemed to appear from nowhere, and Peter entered the room. "Wormtail, the Veritassserum will wear off on him sssoon. Bring him to hisss room, and be sssure he isss locked in adequately." Severus started at the Dark Lord in horror. He'd been dosed with truth serum? As he let Peter lead him away, he realized that even under the powerful truth drug, he had called Voldemort his lord. 

* * *

_A/N: Sorry I've been so long in updating . . . I need to finish my master's thesis by mid-April . . . too little time . . . _


	23. A Letter in Blood

** Twelve Again  
Chapter Twenty-Three: A Letter in Blood **

  
  
Summary: After Professor Snape fails to return from a Death Eater meeting, Hagrid finds a young dark-haired boy who believes the year is still 1968. The victim of an experimental time-reversal potion, young Severus tries to adapt to a changed world without his parents, his familiar classmates, or his illusions that his life is his own.  
Spoilers: Through GoF, this takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places remain JK Rowlings'.   
Severus flipped quietly through a book he had read 'last summer', reviewing the material that was both recently learned and distantly remembered. He sat on his bed rather than at the desk, simply because he had a better view of the door from the bed than from the desk. He had no idea of the time. There was neither watch, clock, nor window to tell him even if it was morning yet. The room was completely dark, aside from the lumos spell at the end of his wand that he read by. 

According to the internal clock that was his stomach, breakfast had come and gone hours ago. Though after last night's dinner, he was just as glad to miss it. 

He had reached the chapter on border-line Dark Potions for strenghtening the drinker's magical powers when the door opened to admit Voldemort himself. After the previous evening's encounter with Veritaserum, Severus saw little point in curbing his first reaction: retreating as far away as he could without leaving the bed, and drawing his knees up to his chest like the frightened little boy he was. He watched with wary eyes as Voldemort closed and warded the door behind him, then crossed the room towards him. 

The dark wizard sat down directly next to him, but there was nowhere to shy away to on the narrow mattress. Voldemort reached out at bushed cold fingertips along his cheek, as Mother used to do when he was scared. "Ssshh, you are sssafe, my Ssseverusss." If he had truly been Mother, Severus would have burst into real tears and fallen into her open arms. But Mother was dead. 

He leaned into the offered embrace, ignoring the part of his mind that screamed that he was taking comfort from the very creature that was causing his distress. The part that said he should draw his wand and do his best to fight his way to freedom instead of wallowing about in fear and misery. He tightly grasped the dark lord's robes and began to shake with silent, tearless sobs. It was all very well for Matty to want to leave. He had friends and people who cared for him at Hogwarts. After what Matty had suffered during the distraction, Severus wasn't likely to get anything but hate and fear. 

A cold hand rubbed circles against his back. "My Ssseverusss," the hissing voice murmured, almost succeeding in being soothing. Severus relaxed minutely into the arms that held him. Here, at least, people wouldn't look at him as if they expected him to kill them painfully without warning or cause. 

"Yours," he confirmed quietly, much of his tension and terror leaving with the word. That same part of his mind rebelled and screamed, _Never yours!_ But that part held no control on his body, and could only seethe inwardly against the fact that any part of him could accept the monster's touch as anything but disgusting and creepy. Severus inwardly told Matty to go back to sleep and that he wasn't welcome here. It was Severus's turn to be accepted. 

Voldemort pulled away, just enough to look into Severus's eyes. A cold finger lifted his chin, and the dark lord smiled as red eyes looked into dry black ones. "I sssee you are a true Ssslytherin, after all. Do not dissssappoint me, my Ssseverusss." It was his father's highest praise followed by his father's standard warning for when Severus had come periliously close to doing just that. 

"I won't, sir," Severus promised, as he would if Voldemort had really been his father. Truthfully, the two were very similiar in Severus's experience of the two wizards. Voldemort might even be slightly more openly caring. Severus's father certainly would not have sat quietly sat through two such shows of weakness with him as Voldemort had done. "I won't dissapoint you," he reaffirmed, black eyes earnestly meeting those red ones that weren't nearly as intimidating as they had been. 

Voldemort chuckled quietly and brushed long cold fingers against his cheek again. This time, Severus did not flinch away. Voldemort smiled. "No, I expect you will not." The dark lord rose to his feet and turned back to look at Severus, who was no longer fearfully curled up on the corner of his bed, sitting comfortably at its head. "The morning grows late. You will join me for lunch." 

Drawing courage from their recent closeness, Severus said, somewhat more insolently than he would to any adult not his parent, "I'm not eating any more of that stew. It was gross." 

Voldemort laughed, not entirely in humour. "Did you truly believe there wasss enough of Gideon Nott left to cook, my sssmall Ssseverusss? What you removed into you napkin was transfigured celery." 

Severus wasn't sure if he was more relieved that he hadn't eaten Gideon, appalled that 'there wasssn't enough of him to cook', or embarrassed that he had been so thoroughly fooled. "Aren't you kinda old to play with your food?" he asked before he could squash the thought. He slapped a hand over his mouth and fidgited nervously under Voldemort's incredulious stare. Merlin, he wouldn't even say that to _Mother_, nevermind Father or, fatally worse, the Dark Lord. He hadn't even injested anything that could provide an excuse for his outburst. He managed to simulaneously flush in embarrassment and pale in horror. "I didn't mean to say that out loud, sir. I'm sorry, sir." 

To Severus's surprise, Voldemort did not kill him on the spot. Didn't even hit him with a Cruciatus. In fact, he laughed. "Foolissh child. Come eat." 

Severus rushed to comply, hoping vainly that it would make the dark lord forget his stupid remark. 

* * *

Breakfast was nothing more sinister than pancakes and bacon. Voldemort did eat as well, which assured Severus of both the dark wizard's continued mortality (at least in regards to nutrition) and that the food was neither poisoned or drugged with truth serum. When the silence at the table became overbearing, he made the first comment that came to his mind on the subject he had been mulling over for the last ten minutes. Perhaps it would redeem him some, too. "It was a good intimidation technique. The stew, I mean. But it would have been better if you were there eating the celery." 

Voldemort just _looked_ at him, and he blushed again. "Not that I'm critcizing your methods or anything, my lord." _You should be,_ that outraged part of him told himself. _And don't call him lord. You don't have to anymore, your cover's blown._ Severus pushed the thoughts away. They wouldn't help him here. This was a snake's pit, and Gryffindorish thoughts had no place here. Just because Voldemort was being strangely indulgent didn't mean that he would go unharmed or even survive should he become an annoyance. Besides, Hogwarts had shown him what the Wizarding world thought of someone with Voldemort's brand. It was time to make the most of the hand he was dealt. There wasn't a lot of alternative. 

"You do not ccease to assstound me, my Ssseverusss." 

Beyond which, Voldemort didn't seem nearly so bad as people made him out to be. _That's why he branded you and uses the Cruciatus at the drop of a hat,_ his Other snapped back sarcastically. _You're being selectively blind. Remember Gideon? He's dead because you tricked him. Merlin, the monster jokes about eating people!_

Severus tried to convince himself it was just a violent temper, and proof that he shouldn't cross the wizard. But that betrayed his pride. He would never comply out of fear. He was his own self, free to make his own choices, even as a prisoner. On defiant impulse, he drew forth the letter written in blood. He tossed it across the table to Voldemort. "I wrote a letter to Katryna Tragyl. Would you send it to her? She was the only one at Hogwarts who was decent to me. I would also like a pot of ink and parchment in my room. It was tedious using blood and I find tearing pages out of books offensive." 

By the look the dark lord gave him, he imagined he had managed to continue astounding him. "How . . . resssourccceful." He unrolled the page and read the short letter. When he finished, he rerolled it, sealed it, and summoned a distinctive looking white-winged owl. Where it had come from, Severus couldn't begin to guess, but it appeared on command. "Bring thisss to Katryna Tragyl at Hogwartsss." When it was gone, he looked at Severus and said only, "A sssparrow, Ssseverusss?" 

"Imperium avia, my lord." He smirked a little, "How did you suppose I let Dumbledore know to find me at Nott Manor?" 

"You grow insssolent, sssmall Ssseverusss," Voldemort warned. 

Severus ducked his head. "I apologize, my lord." 

The rest of the meal passed with only the sound of clinking silverware. When he finished, Severus placed his fork and knife at the proper angle, as his mother had taught, and looked over at the dark lord. "Have you plans for me today, or will I spend the day reading in my room, sir?" It could have been summer vacation again, if only the head of the table was occupied by his father instead of Voldemort. 

"I wish to test that ability you demonstrated yesterday. Come." The dark lord swept to his feet and strode from the room. Severus hurried to keep up. They only stopped when they reached the same place where he had demonstrated the Cruciatus the day before. The side yard was barren of anything but the scragliest of grass. The dirt was dry and full of small rocks, which might account for the lack of growth, though Severus wasn't certain that was the only cause. 

The dead cat still lay where it fell. 

Peter shortly appeared from whatever hole he had been in during breakfast. Voldemort gave his instructions: Peter was to stand behind Severus, holding his shoulder. Voldemort would make the cat corpse burn, while Severus attempted to keep the flames doused. 

It resulted in something of a stalemate with the fur slightly smouldering, and stench of burning hair in the air. Predictably, Severus began to flag first. The smouldering grew into small flames. His wand shook as he tried to continually cast and recast the extinguishing charm. Sweat appeared on his brow more from the effort of sustained spell casting than from the heat of the fire, though that was starting to get warm enough to feel as well. 

He tried to draw magic from Pettigrew, but failed. 

He tried not to draw magic from Pettigrew and succeeded. 

He tried to ignore Pettigrew, but failed. 

He refocused on the cat, and tried a far stronger extinguishing spell than the one he had been using. One that he wasn't entirely familiar with, but had some book knowledge of. He concentrated on the new spell, putting everything he had into getting it perfect. More magic than he had left in him flew through his wand and towards the cat, and the flames went out entirely. The world blinked out with them. 

* * *

It was two days since Severus's escape. Two detentions down, the rest of term left to go. Six Hogsmeade trips to miss out on. Made up infractions lost her points whenever she saw Clarence. Jansten - her auror brother - hadn't _quite_ sent her Howler accusing her of being Dark in front of the whole school. It was a Howler, but he was so angry, the only thing he managed to convey was a hiss of frustration, and so it resulted only in twitters of amusement instead of shunning from the other Houses. Fortunately, her two Gryffindor brothers, Kib and Menteron were left in the dark. 

She was obviously in favour among the Future Death Eater crowd. 

Battle lines had been drawn among those in the know and she was standing on the wrong side. 

The morning post arrived, and she watched warily for another red envelope. As of yet, she still had not heard from three of her older brothers. But the only owl that flew towards her was a black one with white wings. She had never seen the odd looking bird before, and wondered who it could be from. It hooted seven times before it allowed her to take its burden away. 

Feeling flustered from her battle with the owl, she shot an mildly annoyed look around to see if anyone was laughing at her. No one was, but there was a strange attentiveness around Draco Malfoy and a few others as they watched her open her mail. The handwriting was not one she immediately could identify, so her eyes tracked quickly towards the bottom. _Severus_. 

Her eyes widened, and she started again at the top, reading each word as if it might hold salvation. None of them did. No resounding declaration of having made a mistake. No cry for help or rescue. Just a somewhat obscure reference to Voldemort's beliefs of his loyalties and the notion that he was a prisoner there was clearly established. For all that, it seemed a captivity he held little interest in leaving. 

Then she noticed the ink. A flaky brown substance. _Blood_. 

People do not write in blood unless they're desperate. Why write to her? Why did it not say right out what he wanted or needed to say? 

And why send it secretly by sparr- He didn't send it by sparrow as he said in the letter. It was sent by owl. She read the letter again. Aside from the note about her broomstick and the hope she hadn't gotten in trouble, she saw little reason why he would tell her the rest. So maybe she wasn't the intended recipient. Maybe he was trying to tell somebody else something else. 

But who? 

Severus spoke to nobody but herself, Clarence, and the auror. He wouldn't be writing to Fletcher, of that, she was certain. Clarence, then? Maybe they had developed some kind of code that Clarence would be able to decipher from the letter to get the hidden message? So why not send it directly to Clarence? 

_Because he's not suicidal, idiot,_ she snapped at herself. _You're a Slytherin, girl, think like one._ Severus writes a coded message to Clarence asking for help. Of course he can't address it directly to Clarence. If Voldemort caught him with it, he'd be killed. Clarence wasn't at all considered even remotely dark, for all that he idolized the Professor. Who was a traitor. The words from two days ago repeated themselves in her mind. 

_He has two options. To stay there and become what everyone expects of him. Or to try to leave. If he attempts the latter, there are two possible outcomes. One is far more likely than the other. The unlikely one is that he makes it back to Hogwarts safely and isn't killed by either the aurors hunting him or the Death Eaters he has betrayed yet again. The likely one is that he dies trying. As you said, he is twelve. Two years younger than Kib. Can you see Kib escaping the dark lord intact?_

_You don't know him, Dad. He's almost as smart as Clarence -_

_Smarter._

This was his first quiet step in his escape then. The note might have even been discovered and sent to her to confuse the issue. That was why it was by owl instead of sparrow. She would just need to get it to Clarence without the pass being noticed by anyone who might tell Voldemort. She was under observation by the Future Death Eaters of Hogwarts club, that much she knew already. 

She was fairly confident of her ability to slip it into her brother's robe pocket without being seen if she could just manufacture a reason to get close enough to do it. Well, shout down matches with him were becoming increasingly common. Perhaps, she could taunt him into a physical fight? No. Not Clarence. Kib, though, would do it. He wasn't involved at all and no one would suspect the youngest Tragyl son of anything that didn't have to do with Muggle entertainment or Quiddich trivia. Perfect. 

It wasn't like she'd be starting a new trend or anything suspicious like that either. 

* * *

"But Professor," Kib Tragyl complained to McGonagall, "She's my sister and a Slytherin, it's our _duty_ to fight." 

Tryna nodded to show her support of this defence, as she always did whenever Kib tried to use it. 

"I believe, Mr. Tragyl, you performed this _duty _yesterday, and two days before that, and the day before that, and so forth, quite frequently before that. Ten points from both Slytherin and Gryffindor. Again." 

"She's just mad because you caught a glancing blow on Colin this time," Tryna told her brother calmly. 

"I said I was sorry," Kib pointed out. "You didn't mind, did you, Col?" 

The fourth year shook his head, "Nah. Dennis and me get in worse over the summer. Barely felt it." He grinned, "But since I'm a casualty, do I get to learn what it was about this time?" 

"Tryna called me a ninny." 

Tryna stuck out her tongue. "You called me a dummy first." 

"Because you are," Kib retorted. 

"And you are a ninny." 

Kib ran at her again, and would have gone into a flying tackle if McGonagall hadn't cast an invisible wall between the two siblings which Kib ran face first into. Tryna burst out in laughter, which Kib immediately joined in on. "Ok," he laughed, "You win that round." 

McGonagall sighed. "Five more points from Gryffindor." 

* * *

Kib dug through his pockets, looking for the pot of marbled red and gold ink he had in there somewhere. He came across a folded piece of muggle paper that he didn't remember putting in there, and pulled out, curious. _Give this to Clarence,_ Tryna's handwriting spelled out. 

He shrugged, dismissing the weirdness of it. Tryna was Slytherin and Clarence was Ravenclaw. If they were Up To Something, he wasn't going to get involved any more than delivering that piece of paper. While periodically attacking or being attacked by Tryna - all in good fun, and more for tradition's sake than anything else - was a sure way to lose points, getting mixed up in a scheme with those two could mean expellment. 

* * *

Clarence distrustfully opened the square of paper Kib had given him. He had not forgiven Tryna for putting his Professor in danger, but anything involving enough secrecy to use _Kib_ as a go-between had to be important. 

_I don't think this was meant for me,_ was all that was written on the inside of the muggle paper shell that enclosed the more traditional parchment used by wizards. He unfolded that as well and recognized the neater version of Snape's handwriting that the professor used for notes that he might have to read again. The ink - no, that wasn't ink, was it? Chills slid down the Ravenclaw's back as he realized the note was written in blood. 

It was addressed to Katryna. He read it through three times before reaching the twin conclusions that his sister had been both right and wrong. The letter was not meant for her. But neither was it meant for him. 

He left Ravenclaw Tower and made his way to Professor Snape's office. Zmiya was there, as he had expected. He posed a series of questions to the substitute that he knew the man would be unable to answer. Zmiya quickly lost patience with the line of interrogation, and bit out, "Why don't you bother the Headmaster with this?" 

As this was the alibi he had been looking for, he nodded agreement, "Okay, I'll ask him then." 

When he reached the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore put aside a piece of paper he had been writing on as Clarence entered. "Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Tragyl?" 

Clarence shook his head. "Me, no. But I thought I should give this to you," he said and handed Tryna's letter to the Headmaster. 

Dumbledore's pleasant expression quickly drained away as he read the short note. "Where did you get this?" he asked, sounding tired and old for the first time in Clarence's experience. 

"Tryna gave it to me. Indirectly. I think she got it by owl this morning. The black owl with white wings. It doesn't belong to any of my brothers and rental owls are never that distinctive. I had thought at first it was Gran's but she's never gotten that owl before, and she said she's received letters from Gran before now." 

Dumbledore nodded, filing away the facts and Clarence's deductions. 

"Is Professor Snape going to be alright?" Clarence asked, his worry and fear bursting from him in that one question. 

The Headmaster sighed. "Severus is a survivor. He will adapt to the circumstances as neccessary. I fear for his innocence, not his life." 

"Seems his innocence was already lost," Clarence said more bitterly than he had intended. 

Dumbledore chuckled softly, almost sadly, "I suggest you review Matty Groves' potions essays one more time, Mr. Tragyl. I also trust you will tell no one of what you discover when you do so." 

Clarence frowned, curiosity piqued by the non-sequitur. 

"Was there anything else, Mr. Tragyl?" 

Clarence knew a dismissal when he heard one. "No, sir." 

The only third year Slytherin-Gryffindor essay that Matty had turned in sat ungraded in his room with those of the rest of his class. Zmiya had hardly assigned any homework, and only once Clarence attained his time-turner four days ago, had he relented to Clarence's demands that essays should be turned in at every class. On the condition that Clarence grade them. Keeping the pile at a constant height required him to double the use of his time turner to keep up with the incoming. 

He pulled out Matty's paper from the rest, and nearly popped his eyes out when he saw the handwriting. 

He hadn't spent five years as Professor Snape's favourite pupil for nothing. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley were in for a detention tomorrow. On whatever moderately believable excuse he could come up with. He was sure he could get Zmiya to let him proctor it. 

* * *

Previous Next


	24. Inattention, Cheek, and Uncooperative Be

** Twelve Again  
Chapter Twenty-Four: Inattention, Cheek, and Uncooperative Behaviour **

  
  
Summary: After Professor Snape fails to return from a Death Eater meeting, Hagrid finds a young dark-haired boy who believes the year is still 1968. The victim of an experimental time-reversal potion, young Severus tries to adapt to a changed world without his parents, his familiar classmates, or his illusions that his life is his own.  
Spoilers: Through GoF, this takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places remain JK Rowlings'.   
Clarence Tragyl stalked up the central aisle of the potions classroom, wishing he could wear a big black billowing robe instead of the school uniform with a Ravenclaw patch and a prefect's badge. It would be ever so much more fun. As it was . . . "Longbottom! If you even think about putting that rat's tail in there I will reduce Gryffindor points into the negatives!" 

The boy's jump was downright satisfying. A quick levitation charm kept the dropped tail from falling into the potion. "Ten points from Gryffindor for doing _exactly_ what I said not to do!" His voice had the bite that six years as the Potion's Professor's devoted follower had taught him. 

"I...I," Longbottom stammered, probably trying to protest that it had been an accident. 

Clarence tried to swoop down on him, but the school robes wouldn't cooperate and his red hair and lightly freckled nose did nothing for intimidation. It didn't help that he was only as tall as Neville himself. Blasted Tragyl genes had given himself and most of his brothers a rather late growth spurt. Clarence's had yet to come. 

In leiu of an imposing height and colouring, he made use of stance and facial expression. He crossed his arms, and frowned at the clumsy Gryffindor, almost managing the Malfoy trick of looking down at someone who's not shorter than ones self. Words, however, were one thing he could level at another with nearly as much effect as Snape himself. He plucked the rat's tail from the air over the cauldron, and spoke quietly, the words laced with menace. "Do you have any _idea_ of what would have occurred had this gone into your potion?" _You blundering fool_ was unspoken, but understood. 

Longbottom was staring at him, wide-eyed and white-faced. Clarence was even close enough to see that the boy was sweating. Mother would not likely take well to the news that her 'good twin' was terrorizing younger students. But then, _she_ had never had to teach potions. Neither had Professor Zmiya for that matter, Clarence thought, almost smugly. Clarence had usurped the position quite neatly. Longbottom shook his head nervously, in answer to Clarence's question. "N-no." 

Clarence did not look away from his unlucky victim. "Miss Granger, why don't you inform your classmate of what he nearly did?" 

"Adding rat's tail to a brightening potion would have neutralized its effects, but it is hardly dangerous," she answered promptly and with a hint of censure for making such a big deal about it. 

Clarence looked at her as if surprised. "Clearly, Miss Granger, you have not been paying attention." This was more an insult than anything even Professor Snape had ever said to Longbottom. She went white, then flushed red. Before she could argue, however, he explained, "Longbottom is accident-prone and without a potions-adept cell in his body. One would think, with someone as bright as yourself at the next table, you would have noticed him substituting beetle wings for bat wings in the third step, thus making the addition of rat's tail an explosion ready to happen. Detention for not preventing or even noticing a potentially dangerous combination." He turned on his heel to stalk towards Crabbe and Goyle, who were stirring clockwise when they should be going counter-clockwise. 

Behind him, he heard Ron whisper to Harry, "I swear, Aunt Keri must have had an affair with Snape and the twins were charmed to look like her side of the family so no one would know." 

Clarence almost forgot about the Slytherin's improper stirring as he turned toward his second cousin, unsure if he should be amused, outraged, or just simply stunned. "Detention, Mr. Weasley," he said, his tongue taking over while his brain tried to reach a decision on how to take that remark, "for your cheek." Harry tried to stiffle a laugh, but didn't completely succeed. Clarence's eyes latched onto him in warning, "Would you share what you find so amusing with the class, Mr. Potter?" 

Harry pressed his lips together and shook his head back and forth quickly. 

"Detention for uncooperative behaviour." He turned abruptly toward Crabbe and Goyle, "Five points from Slytherin! Stir that the other way!" That dealt with, he returned to regarding his cousin. Ron shifted nervously under Clarence's heavy gaze. "You called my brother a bastard, and my mother unfaithful," he said quietly, disregarding for now the fact that, in Ron's eyes, he had compared well enough to his favourite teacher to earn a rumour of being his son. "I am certain that Professor Zmiya will allow me to _personally_ oversee your detention, _Cousin_." 

He saw Harry look across the room to where Draco Malfoy sat, and figured that the class's other troublemaker was about weigh in on the confrontation. Clarence turned toward the blond and frowned menacingly, "Say one word, and you'll be joining them in detention, _Cousin_." The word held as much threat for Malfoy as it had for Ron. Thankfully, Draco only smirked at Harry and returned to his own cauldron, not daring to call Clarence's bluff. The rest of the class passed with the students walking on eggshells around the detention-happy prefect. 

* * *

Detention began at 8:00 sharp. At 8:00:01, Clarence frowned at the door to the empty classroom, which obligingly swung open, and three Gryffindors hurried breathlessly through it. "You're late," he snapped. "Sit," he commanded, pointing at one of the desks. Meekly, they did so. 

"Sorry, Pro-Prefect," Hermione apologized. "Malfoy blocked the way and wouldn't let us by." 

Clarence nearly goggled at her. Had she really just almost called him 'Professor'? He pulled himself under control and looked each of them in the eye. "Tonight's detention will be fairly simple, and not even terribly onerous, despite your offense," he looked pointedly at Ron, who shifted uncomfortably. The other two relaxed, just a little. But then he cast silencing charms around the room and said, "You will now tell me about Matty Groves." They immediately stiffened again. Pitiful. Hopefully no one else made the connection or the Professor's secret was toast. 

He drew a folder off of his teacher's desk, and opened it. He first placed Matty's essay on the table in front of the three. He then placed one of Severus's beside it. Finally, he placed an opened research notebook of the Professor's on its other side. "You may notice, as I did, a decided similiarity between the handwriting of your friend, his enemy, and our professor. Remarkably, Matty Groves' looks even more like Professor Snape's than his own younger self's." 

Harry swallowed visibily. 

"I might have suspected Matty of cheating but for two facts." He looked at each of them again to make them understand the seriousness of the situation. "First is that they are rivals who apparently can't look at each other without throwing hexes. The second was that it was Dumbledore who told me to examine the handwritings." 

Harry slumped in his relief. The other two were barely less obvious. 

"So I ask you again, tell me about Matty Groves." 

"He's Severus," Harry began, hesitantly. "But you know that already, don't you?" 

"It was what I was given to understand through the hints Dumbledore gave me, yes. What I don't understand is why he was enrolled as two so vastly different people." 

"Um," Harry bit his lip and looked at Hermione, as if for answers. Granted she was a good place to look for them, but then he turned back to Clarence and spoke for himself. "What do you know about Professor Snape and what, exactly, did Dumbledore tell you about Matty?" 

Clarence reminded himself that, despite his impatience, it was a good thing, for Snape, that Harry was being so cautious. "I had questioned, in the Headmaster's presence during a private interview, the motives of Professor Snape's younger incarnation. Professor Dumbledore gave me one of those looks he can give and told me to grade Matty's potions essay. That was all he said, but I imagine he knew perfectly well that I could recognize Professor Snape's handwriting as easily as my own." He gave the three Gryffindors a small smirk, "As Matty's constant companions, the three of you were doomed to detention long before you walked into the classroom this morning." 

Hermione found the humour in that more easily than the two boys. Harry and Ron looked affronted, and Clarence would bet the whole of Honeyduke's inventory that his cousin was about to accuse him of being as unfair as Snape when Hermione spoke, wearing a small smile. "Ron rather played right into your hand, didn't he, Prefect?" 

Clarence grinned right back at her. "It gave me every excuse to proctor this detention with no questions asked." He spared a smirk for the gaping Weasley. "And for that I thank you. Menteron, incidently, is none too pleased about your insinuation, and he's planning to talk to Fred and George about ways to retaliate." Ron knew as well as he did that the Weasley twins and the Gryffindor Tragyl twin were like three peas to the pod. The younger boy paled. 

"And you, Clarence?" Ron asked, nervously, proving he did have brains. "I don't think this detention counts as your revenge." 

Clarence shrugged. "For the suggestion that my mother would do that, and the obscene idea that Menteron could possibly be related to Professor Snape, I told," _will tell_, "Fred that you had detention tonight and the precise time I plan to," _did_, "let you out. For the compliment that _I_ could be related to the Professor, I see no reason to enact a revenge of my own." 

It was obvious that he couldn't decide whether to be relieved by Clarence's declaration of peace, worried by the twins' knowledge of his night's comings and goings, horrified by Clarence's taking his comment as a compliment, or suspicious of Clarence's true intentions. That confusion and half-expection of a possible retaliation was all the revenge Clarence felt was in order for the transgression. "Back to Matty." 

The three Gryffindors exchanged uncertain looks, trying to wordlessly decide whether or not they should talk frankly with the Ravenclaw Prefect. 

"Why Dumbledore's nephew?" Clarence asked, hoping it was a neutral enough question that they might answer. 

Harry gave a small smile. "Sev's a sweet kid. Dumbledore was only too glad to adopt him." _Sweet_ was a word Clarence had never expected to hear in regards to Snape, particularly not from Harry Potter. "Being the grandson of the Headmaster's brother gave Dumbledore an excuse to do just that. Sev's parents are dead, you see, but he's still only twelve for most intents and purposes. He needed a guardian." 

"But why adopt Matty instead of Severus himself?" 

"Severus is legally thirty-nine," Harry pointed out. "Besides, by the time adoption became a topic of discussion, he'd already been back to Voldemort once. The Headmaster couldn't very well adopt him openly _and_ allow him to spy. Voldemort would get suspicious." 

Clarence blinked. It had never occurred to him that the child Severus might be a spy. When he had first been turned into a boy again, Clarence had assumed the Professor had been one, but that he had continued that duty? The thought had never crossed his mind. When the former professor showed up with Auror in tow, Clarence's doubts had fallen to the opposite extreme: both the Professor and the child had been true Death Eaters. 

That the old Snape had been one or the other, spy or Death Eater, Clarence had complete certainty. It was only which of the two he was unsure of. He had never asked why his mentor would suddenly leave their late night brewing sessions. It was a topic Snape very obviously had held no intention of discussing. But after several such occurances, Clarence had become plagued by the bane of all Ravenclaws: curiousity. 

So he did the only thing any Ravenclaw raised by Gryffindors and Slytherins would do. The next time it happened, he staked out Snape's living quarters once he finished the potion. When the professor returned at one in the morning, usually immaculate shiny black shoes lined with a film of moisture and mud, Clarence knew the man was going outside and probably leaving Hogwarts altogether. So he did the only logical thing to do: He warded the school property to find out where the Professor crossed the boundry. He folded his spell among the Anti-Apperation wards so Snape wouldn't notice it as he crossed through the lines of magic. 

Once the ward was activated, the Ravenclaw went to the spot and hid in a nearby tree, assuming correctly that Snape would return by the same path he left through. It was almost three in the morning when Snape came back that time. He apperated in right near where Clarence was hidden. Snape wore a Death Eater's mask, and, even across the several yards that seperated them, the Professor smelt of blood. He took off the mask, shrunk it, hid it in his robes, and cast a cleaning spell on himself. Then he went back to the castle, with nothing but dirt on his shoes to give away his late night activity. Clarence hadn't move for almost twenty minutes. He didn't know what to make of it. 

Professor Snape was . . . a _difficult_ person to get along with, if you weren't Clarence or a Slytherin. He knew this. He knew what his friends, what his brothers, what people in general thought and said about him. _He_ couldn't imagine the Professor being a Death Eater, but he knew equally that just because the man was nice to _him_, a Ravenclaw pureblood who could brew the Draught of the Living Death by the time he was six, that didn't make him a good person generally. He _knew_ Snape enjoyed making Longbottom tremble. Snape himself had _told_ him that he finds it amusing to taunt and torture his students. (Something Clarence hadn't understood at the time, but agreed heartily with now.) He's _said_ the only reason he was still at Hogwarts was because he had an obligation to remain. He _didn't_ mention whether the obligation was to Dumbledore or Voldemort. Snape had left that point rather ominously vague. 

What was he supposed to think when he _saw_ his favorite teacher come back from places unknown in the small hours of the morning, wearing the attire of a Death Eater and stinking of violence? He had justified not informing anyone of his discovery by the rationalization that Dumbledore wouldn't hire a Death Eater. He hadn't confronted Snape about it because, well, (a) Clarence been spying on a teacher, (b) Snape was either a spy or a Death Eater, and (c) the likely reward for his curiousity was either an obliviate or an avada kedavera. Since Ravenclaws fear the one as much as the other, he had kept his mouth shut and his knowledge to himself. 

Snape had disappeared a few days after that, and eventually returned as a child. Clarence had thought it fairly obvious at that point what must have happened. Snape was a spy. He'd been discovered and forced to drink some awful potion that turned him into a twelve-year-old. It had been with an internal sense of relief that he heard the news of Snape's transformation. Outwardly, of course, he lamented the loss of his favourite teacher, and that was not at all feigned either. 

When the boy showed up with an Auror guard, Clarence had adjusted his former opinion, which was obviously flawed by his naivety. Voldemort would have killed Snape if he had been discovered as a spy. The Death Eaters and Snape had some other kind of plot going. The plot just started to look all the more nefarious when it became obvious that Severus had mixed Clarence's little sister up in it. 

"So he was a spy," Clarence said, after a few moments pause as these memories marched their way through his mind. 

Harry's eyes widened, and Clarence realized the younger boy hadn't meant to give that away. The Gryffindor must be truly awful at keeping secrets. It was a wonder the whole school didn't already know Matty and Severus were one and the same. 

So was the Professor compromised and punished, or was he part of a nefarious plot while still holding loyalty to Dumbledore? Clarence's head hurt. Then his eyes snapped wide open. _Father knew!_

_. . . two possible outcomes . . . he makes it back to Hogwarts safely and isn't killed by either the aurors hunting him or the Death Eaters he has betrayed yet again._ How did Father know he had betrayed them the first time? It was worrisome. Father had been a Slytherin. He was just as adament as Tryna about not giving away information about known Death Eaters. And just how were his parents so certain that Grandfather Tragyl wasn't a Death Eater? 

But Mum wouldn't let him be a Death Eater. Not even as a spy. Clarence was sure of that. Or did he only think that because they were his parents? No. No, his father would never do such a thing. He had married a Gryffindor - a Weasley Gryffindor no less; no Slytherin would trust him after that. 

But he was still left with the question: how did Father know about Snape being a spy? He wished he could talk to Tryna about this, but Tryna idolized their father worse than he idolized Snape. Even if it was true, which Clarence doubted, she'd obliviate him just so he wouldn't tell. Nevermind that she didn't know how yet. And an inexperienced obliviate was even more frightening than a well-done one. 

Wait. Tryna might have kept Father updated on her progress with her 'patient'. Confidentiality didn't count when it was Tryna talking to Father. Tryna told him everything. Well, except the plan to free Severus. That was one of those times when his Slytherin sister would have decided asking forgiveness was easier than asking permission. She would have had every intention of informing him about it; just after the fact. So. Assume Tryna told him about Snape's spying. Clarence liked that theory much better. 

"Um," Harry said, and Clarence made a mental effort to remember where his thoughts had left the conversation. Oh, right. Asking confirmation about Snape being a spy. "You didn't know?" The Gryffindor sounded part-surprised, part-chagrined. 

"I . . . suspected," Clarence simplified his experience on the matter, without clarifying what he had suspected. "How did _you_ know?" 

Harry looked uncertain about whether or not he should reveal that information. "They thought I was asleep," he eventually answered, vaguely. 

Clarence didn't press. That wasn't the information he wanted to know anyway. "The professor's allegiance is irrelevant anyway. Until last night, I thought the younger version was a wannabe evil monster, whose skill with poisons gave him a head start over all other wannabe dark wizards his age. Now you tell me he was . . ." Clarence made a distressed face as he quoted the younger student, "'sweet'." 

"That's Harry's word," Ron disagreed. "Matty was still a scary kid. Brilliant. But scary." At that assessment, both Harry and Hermione gave him odd looks. He added defensively, "In a different way than you are, 'Mione." 

The girl rolled her eyes heavenward, but made no verbal response to her friend's words. As an aside to Clarence, she said, "Ron and Severus coordinated the Matty-Severus rivalry together. They had entirely too much fun with it, in my opinion. Matty should have been studying Arithmancy. After skipping a grade, he was seriously behind." 

"He _was_ studying Arithmancy," Harry disagreed with her. "He used his timeturner more than even you did in third year." 

Ah. A timeturner. So that's how the two of them could be seen together. The pieces were beginning to fall into place. "How did you meet him?" 

Harry looked breifly at Clarence's prefect badge, hesitating. "I was out after hours, just walking. I happened to see him also out in the halls." He shrugged. "I followed him. I wanted to know what he was up to." Green eyes looked up at met Clarence's. "He was just Severus then. It was before the Auror and Matty came. Sev's just a kid. He was branded a Death Eater, but he is just a kid. There was a summons that night. He didn't even know what it was. All he knew was that his arm hurt. He collapsed against a wall. I went to see what what wrong. He showed me the Mark, and told me that the tattoo hurt." 

Clarence flinched. It was one thing to have academic knowlege that one's mentor was a Death Eater, or had been. It was another to have someone report seeing the brand on his skin. 

_The tattoo hurt,_ Harry had quoted. Clarence couldn't see anyone referring to the Dark Mark as anything as mundane as a muggle tattoo. Had Severus the Younger really been that innocent? Dumbledore's words replayed in his mind. _I fear for his innocence, not his life._ Which, in turn, reminded him of the letter that had prompted those words. And the worry and sense of age on the Headmaster that the letter had provoked. 

"He's just a kid. Whose insane idea was it to send him back to Voldemort?" 

Harry gave a weak smirk. "He got Sorted into Gryffindor this time for a reason, Prefect." 

Clarence blinked. Snape had gotten himself Sorted there, hadn't he? Clarence decided he didn't want to be anywhere near the Professor when he returned to normal. 

"'Being a reckless hero,'" Harry continued, "is how he claims the Hat justified it. And Ron's right. Sev is scary. The first day I met him, he said he was going to kill Voldemort. He didn't care whether or not he died trying. Don't get me wrong, he's not suicidal, but . . . he considers it his mission to spy and his ultimate goal is to see Voldemort dead." 

"It's scary," Ron reiterated. 

"Everything about it is scary," Hermione added. "Severus is scared, we're scared for him, _Dumbledore's_ scared for him, most of the students are scared _of_ him. The professors who don't know - which is all of them but Lupin - are scared both of and for him. Professor Lupin's scared, too. The only one who _isn't_ scared, seems to be Auror Fletcher." 

Harry shook his head, smirking a bit. "According to Sev, he scares Fletcher, too." 

"Really?" Hermione asked, as intrigued by that information as Clarence was, "He's only twelve. Why's an auror afraid of him?" 

Harry looked uncertainly at Clarence, then shook his head. "Sev didn't say." It was an obvious lie. 

Neither of the Gryffindors pressed, likely because they intended to do so when they were alone. "You're lying," Clarence informed the Boy-Who-Lived. "You're very bad at it." 

"Sev didn't say," Harry repeated stubbornly. Clarence didn't believe him, but he recognized to futility of further attempts. 

"One more question, then you'll help me scrub some cauldrons so it looks like we did something during this detention, then we can all go to bed." He paused, not intending to be dramatic, but to give them a chance to assimilate the evening's plan before he gave them their last question. "Did he really dose himself with _melting poison_ just so he could spend an unspecified number of days out of class without raising suspicions?" 

"Oh, no," Hermione assured him, "That was done by illusion charms." 

Clarence felt - a probably looked - surprised. "Bloody brilliant illusion," he complimented the caster reverently, whomever he or she had been. "I was completely fooled." He'd had a pretty good view of the attack, too. If he hadn't spent so much time in the company of animal guts he probably would have had to dash for the nearest toilet, like most of the other close witnesses had. 

When they left the room, some fifteen cauldrons later, Clarence pulled out his time turner. A few minutes after that, Clarence-time, Ron, Hermione, and Harry were arriving for detention with Clarence Take 1, and he was heading toward Gryffindor Tower to tell Fred and George Weasley that at 10:13 Ronald Weasley would be leaving the Potions classroom. 

* * *

Peter Pettigrew looked down at the child-like figure on the bed. He himself had only woken a few hours ago from the unconsciousness caused by Snape's theft of his magic. He had been left on the ground outside, but the master had apparently troubled himself to bring the 'boy' up to his bed. That anyone could believe Snape was a child again utterly stumped him. The traitor was _changed_, yes, but not into a child. He had known Snape as a kid. This . . . creature wasn't him. This creature wasn't even human. Couldn't be. Not even Voldemort could take and use another's magic. And Voldemort wasn't human anymore, either. 

He left the room, locking and warding it carefully behind him, to report to his master that Snape had remained unconscious for thirty-six hours now. He did not look forward to the punishment this unwelcome news would bring him. It was hardly _his_ fault that Snape had overexerted himself by so much. 

* * *

Previous Next


	25. Matty is Not Severus

** Twelve Again  
Chapter Twenty-Five: Matty is not Severus **

  
  
Summary: After Professor Snape fails to return from a Death Eater meeting, Hagrid finds a young dark-haired boy who believes the year is still 1968. The victim of an experimental time-reversal potion, young Severus tries to adapt to a changed world without his parents, his familiar classmates, or his illusions that his life is his own.  
Spoilers: Through GoF, this takes place in Harry's fifth year.  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, events, and places remain JK Rowlings'.   


* * *

  
Note about OOTP: This story just went fully AU. I am ignoring the fifth book; there are no spoilers. The auror Mundungus Fletcher in this story is not the same Mundungus Fletcher that is in the Order. Pretty freaky, them having the same name, huh?   


* * *

  
Severus had a pounding headache. His throat was dry. Despite having just woken up, he felt exhausted and drained. Magical overdose, he self-diagnosed. At least, he hadn't felt this . . . 'empty' wasn't exactly the best way to describe it, but he couldn't find better words . . . since the day he had awoken at St. Mungo's after attempting a far-too-complex charm without supervision when he was five. 

His mother had banned him from the manor's library for three months, and only his father's intervention had prevented his illegal wand from being snapped in a burst of maternal overprotectiveness. From his father, he had gained a lecture about knowing one's limits and the importance of not scaring one's mother by nearly dying. Father had never been terribly good at expressing his own concern. But by the sudden shift his tutoring took toward knowing a spell's strength and gauging his own magical reserves, Severus suspected Druscella was not the only Snape that had been frightened by the episode. 

During the exercise with Voldemort and Peter, Severus had known the final spell he had cast required magic levels far above what he had left. That it was a first casting of a spell new to him would have made it need exponentially more. He would never have attempted it under normal circumstances. His father had not suggested that he could have died merely to scare him. In some cases of magical overdose, the witch or wizard had burned out their ability and been left a squib. 

Severus quelled the instinct to cast a simple lumos to make sure this had not happened to him. Trying anything, even something so simple, when he was this drained, particularly so soon after a previous brush with overdose, would be phenomenally stupid. That he had awoken at all was pretty good proof that he had managed to borrow Peter's magic. Still, it was probably bad that he had been knocked out. When he had taken from Voldemort to maintain the Cruciatius, he'd been left standing then. Of course, Lord Voldemort had a _lot_ more magical potential than Peter Pettigrew did. 

He struggled to sit up in his bed, finding the reluctance of his muscles to comply disturbing. He managed it, and looked at the open floor between the door and the bed, willing a House Elf to appear with food and an energizing potion. He wondered if there even were House Elves here. He'd seen no evidence of them, but, somehow, he doubted Peter or Voldemort cooked 

The floor remained annoyingly House Elf free. 

He tried willing Peter to appear with an invitation to lunch or dinner or breakfast or whatever meal it was closest to. He'd even settle for second breakfast, elevensies, or afternoon tea if that's what time it was. 

But that did not bring Peter anymore than it had a House Elf. He was left with only one option: Bellowing. He drew in a deep, preparatory breath, then, "PETTIGREW!" He figured bellowing for Voldemort himself was a bad idea. Dark Lords weren't really known for catering to the needs of twelve-year-olds. 

Pettigrew did appear after a few minutes. "You're awake," was his former yearmate's astute observation. 

"A point to Gryffindor for that brilliant deduction, Pettigrew." 

Peter ignored the sarcasm. No, it was less that he ignored it and more that he didn't notice it. "You're expected downstairs, Snape." 

Severus nodded. Hopefully, that meant food. He tried to rise from the bed, but his legs didn't support him, and he sat heavily back onto it. His hands braced him against falling back lengthwise across the mattress. He waited for his vision to clear before facing Pettigrew again. "I don't suppose you have some energizing potion?" he asked, pretending that being unable to stand under his own power was nothing out of the ordinary. 

Peter looked impatient and annoyed. He approached the bed, grabbed Severus by the back of his collar (causing Severus to yelp), and dragged him from the room (arguing and protesting the unfair handling). It was the first time Severus truly noted just how much larger the adult Peter Pettigrew was compared to his own ten year old body. 

By the time he was dumped into his chair at the dining table, he had digressed from arguments and protests to threats and insults that his mother would strongly disapprove of. Voldemort's red-eyed gaze regarded them in unamused question. Severus did not respond to it because it was then that he noticed the plate of sausage and eggs in front of him. He'd been too distracted during his bodily removal from his bedroom to notice the wonderful smell of it, but he did now. Such sweet fragrance definitely called for devouring, and he set to his meal with full concentration. If Peter had just _said_ there was breakfast waiting for him, he'd have _let_ the man carry him. 

When he had consumed everything on the plate, he laid down the silver at the proper angle to indicate he was finished, and sat back in his chair. Looking at Voldemort, he found he was being watched closely. He briefly regretted utterly ignoring his host while he feasted, but decided the meal had been worth the rudeness. "Thank you, my lord. I was very hungry," he said politely, hoping that would make up for it. 

Voldemort merely raised an eyebrow in mild amusement. "You will study quietly today, I think. I will summon Lucius to instruct you." 

Malfoy would tutor him? Father had always said the older boy was a quick learner and had an almost perfect memory for anything Dark. If anyone could challenge the knowledge the elder Snape had passed to his son, it would be a grown-up Lucius. Severus smiled in excited delight, "Thank you, my lord!" 

Voldemort smiled back, somewhat chillingly though Severus didn't notice, and looked pleased. "Wormtail, help young Severus back up to his room. Severus, you will rest until Lucius gets here, understand?" 

Severus gave a put-upon sigh. "Yes, sir," he grumbled. Dark Lord or not, anyone who told a twelve year old to rest - regardless of said twelve-year-old's current condition - would not receive compliance without complaint. 

* * *

Katryna Tragyl sat on her bed with the green curtains drawn for privacy. She wasn't entirely sure how it got back to her, but she had found Severus blood-inked letter in her trunk after the day's classes. Its arrival had given her an idea, and now she was chewing on the end of her quill trying to decide how to reply to it. The parchment in front of her had only two words on it so far: 'Dear' and 'Severus'. These words were followed by a comma. After forty minutes of 'writing' this letter, that was all she had to show for it. 

She dipped the quill in her inkwell and rested the tip on the blot where it had rested the countless other times she had attempted to just let the letter write itself. This was no more successful than it had been before. Then, in a sudden burst of inspiration and creative genius, she wrote, "I got your letter." While it tripled the number of words on the page and doubled the punctuation marks, she had no more idea what to say next than she had before it was written. 

But she had a direction now, she congratulated herself, a starting point. That was an improvement. She had mentioned the letter. That opened the rest of the paragraph to say something about the letter. So she looked at it again and began re-reading it. After only the first bit, she had the next two sentences ready for her own correspondence. "The broom was right where you said it was. If you need to borrow it again just ask, I'm sure my grandmother could get it to you." After that, the words seemed to spill easily onto the page. 

_I'm glad you got to your destination all right. I got in some trouble over helping you, and Fletcher wanted to arrest me, but my father talked my way out for me. I'm stuck with no Hogsmeade privileges and detentions and I lost points. Surprisingly, you didn't. I think in the confusion, they forgot. Matty's in the Hospital Wing still. I tried to check on him, but Pomphrey wouldn't let me in. His face is messed up bad, and he only lets Potter, Granger, and Ron visit him. Or so Clarence told me. That was an vicious potion to use, Sev. Gryffindor-Slytherin fights have gone up in both number and violence. Draco and Potter got in a bad one earlier today. I heard Potter turned Draco's hair pink. Then Draco hit Potter with a cutting hex that made him bleed. Ron hit Draco with another hex that made Draco start coughing up slugs. Crabbe and Goyle got involved after that, and most of the fifth year Gryffindor and Slytherin classes are spending the night in the Hospital Wing._

There. Nice and gossipy, like they were friends with nothing better to discuss than the latest news from Hogwarts. Plus, anything about Harry Potter would qualify as Important Stuff to a Death Eater. The problem was remembering to call him Potter instead of Harry. With Ginny as her favourite cousin, Tryna had spent the past three years (less so this year, thank Merlin), hearing about 'Harry this' and 'Harry that'. As the only Tragyl of her immediate family recognized as kinsfolk by the Malfoys, she had little difficulty calling Draco by his first name, though they were not, by any stretch of the imagination, friends. 

But now she was stuck again. She wanted to tell him something useful, but couldn't think of anything that he really needed to know. She wanted to find a way to tell him that he should be careful and he should hurry up with his epiphany so that he could escape back to Hogwarts soon and she could stop worrying. But she rather doubted her Grandmother or Voldemort would pass anything of the sort along to the intended recipient. Right now, her purpose was to cover Severus's tracks and maybe open a line of communication to him, so she would at least know that, as long as the letters came, Severus was alive. 

Giving up she signed the letter as it was, and sealed it. She wrote a quick note to Grandmother Tragyl, enclosed the one to Severus within it, then went to find Kib so she could borrow his owl. 

* * *

Minerva McGongall was a wonderful teacher, Albus thought as the very same wonderful teacher frowned severely at him. She was not, however, a particularly subtle woman. She was the type of person who, when entrusted with a secret, would never reveal the confidence but would also make little effort to hide that there was a secret or that she knew it. Oh, she wouldn't advertise the fact, but she would not lie when directly questioned. It was for this reason that she had not been informed that her newest Gryffindor was, in fact, a Slytherin. As Severus had recognized, even as a twelve-year-old, she would have treated him differently if she knew. 

For example, had she known, she would not now be in Albus's office. "Mr. Groves has been in the Hospital Wing for two days, Albus! As his Head of House, I should be allowed in to see him!" Poppy had been quite effective in her task of keeping all but Albus and the Gryffindor trio out of Matty's isolation room. The three fifth years had spent both afternoons since the 'poisoning' with Matty's empty bed, 'keeping him company'. "At the very least, Albus, your nephew needs his assignments. He is already behind after transferring schools." 

Yes, Severus would have that difficulty when he returned, wouldn't he? Assuming, of course, that the boy still wished to carry on the Matty deception. Albus fought back a sorrowful sigh. Severus had been so happy as Matty during the two weeks he had spent with that persona. Albus desperately hoped Severus would return still able to enjoy the simple life of being a Hogwarts student. "Matty requested that only Harry, Hermione, Ron, and myself see him in his current condition, Minerva," he said, the sadness in his voice unfeigned. "I will collect his assignments and give them to him." In his mind, he could almost see six or seven Severuses hurrying through his missed assignments in the hours between his return and his 'recovery'. Elsewhere in the room, another three or four Severuses would be sleeping off their exhaustion. Poppy would no doubt revoke all his time turner privileges the moment she heard about it. 

Minerva pursed her lips disapprovingly. "I can understand keeping out the other students, but I don't think you should be allowing him to avoid the teachers. I am his Head of House. I have a duty and a right -" 

"Minerva," Albus interrupted tiredly, "Matty has made his wishes clear, and after his parents, and now this, I am not inclined to deny him the privacy that he so desires." 

She frowned, but eventually nodded and sighed in concession. "Very well, Albus." She stood and walked toward the door, pausing just before she left. "Do tell him I wish for his swift recovery, Albus. If Severus is found, I want him punished for this, Headmaster. There is no excuse for using such a poison on another student." 

Albus sighed. "Severus is not himself." Merlin, that statement was true is so many ways. 

"Matty is your own nephew, Albus! He could have been killed. Don't let Matty become another Professor Snape, Headmaster. You know, as well as I do, that it was your lack of reaction to Black's prank that made Snape's decision the first time. The circumstances are eerily similar. I don't want to see Matty follow the same path." 

For a moment, Albus wasn't sure how to reply to the accusation that was so ironically close to what was truly happening. What he finally said was a lie. "Matty is not Severus." 

* * *

_A/N: I sympathized with Tryna entirely too much during the writing of this chapter. Many apologies for the disgustingly long wait between chapters. I could blame it on the time sink that was my thesis, but that isn't entirely true. Truth is, I had a severe case of writer's block that affected this story, my thesis, the Tragyl story, and just about anything else I attempted to write. This was not helped in the least by the tragic death of my laptop's hard drive which took what I _did_ have for this chapter with it. I hate rewritting what I've already written once. Consequently, this bears little resemblance to the original version. So that's my pitiful excuse. With luck, the next chapter will come much much more quickly. I do intend to _finish_ this monster, swear to Merlin. Since I missed the 'finish in twelve chapters' that I had originally hoped for, my new aim is for 39 chapters, since that's Severus's original age, according to this fic._

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